


A little bit of Maxmoefoe

by ayas3ri



Series: The 'Gentlemenclubbbz' Era [4]
Category: Maxmoefoe - Fandom, Youtubers
Genre: Angry Max, Clumsy Max, F/M, First Meeting, Food Play, Foul Language, Jealousy, Librarian AU, Library Sex, Licking, M/M, Making Out, Meeting the Parents, Song fic, Taking Care of Kids, Transexual Reader, YouTubers - Freeform, domestic life, drama queen, meetings, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 21:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16879689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayas3ri/pseuds/ayas3ri
Summary: My fics on Maxmoefoe taken from my Tumblr blog, gentlemenclubbbz. Enjoy :)





	1. How You Met

“Finally!” you cried out as you exited the shop, almost crying tears of joy from this accomplishment. You lift up in the air, in front of your eyes, the small packet you saved a fair amount of money for, grinning stupidly and proudly. “I’ve got you now!” you talk to it as if it was a live object, but you don’t care if people look at you weirdly. You finally obtained  _THE_  Pokemon cards you worked had for so many months and no one could rain on your parade now. ‘It better be worth it!’ Supposedly, there was a special offer for packets with extra rare Pokemon cards and you weren’t going to pass the opportunity to get your hands on some. 

Affectionately kissing them, you start walking towards your home because it was getting pretty late and to be honest, you were rather tired. As you walked alongside the pier, enjoying the salty sea breeze, you slowed down your pace on your own, deciding to just relax for a bit and enjoy the chilly evening. Plus, there was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind to just tear open the packet and see what you got. You bravely ignored it until you couldn’t anymore. You were dying out of curiosity. After all, you have been such a Pokemon enthusiast ever since you were little, the passion reawakened recently with the apparition of Pokemon Go; you were  _obsessed_ , to say the least. And it probably wasn’t going to stop here.

“Just one little peek…” you whispered to yourself, glancing around, suspicious of every human that passed you, thinking that they’d just want to steal your cards if they saw the immense treasure you possessed. You didn’t stop walking as you ripped the wrapping in a savage manner and your eyes feasted on the prize. “OOOOO!” you hardly contained your excitement, your heart beating fast as you examined every single card with caution. ‘These are gold!’ Seemed like you hit the jackpot.

You were too enraptured by them, squealing internally, to see where you were actually going. And, of course, it was inevitable  _not_ to bump into someone. As both of you were walking fast, the impact was rather powerful and you both fell on your butts, the cards you had in your hand flying in the air and dancing around you.

“NO!” two heartbroken persons screamed, one of them being you, after seeing the cards scattered around. You were thankful it wasn’t a windy day, or else your cards would’ve been gone by now. But, somehow…there were a lot more cards than you’ve bought…Scrunching your nose, you tried to figure out what has happened, but your thoughts and calculations were interrupted by someone reprimanding you.

“Watch where you’re going, cunt!” you lifted your head and met the green eyes of a  _very_ pretty boy with long fluffy hair, but his face was not friendly at all. And honestly, you weren’t feeling so friendly either, especially not after him insulting you out of the blue. “You made me drop all of my cards!” he went on, slurring a bit. He did seem a bit shaken, unsteady in his movements, so the only conclusion you reached was that he was slightly tipsy and excitable. 

You’d have to thread with care lest you end up the night with a black eye. 

‘So that’s where all the cards came from…’ you thought and suddenly, you felt anxious, uncaring of the boy and hitting a new conundrum: which cards were yours? The boy seemed to reach the same conclusion as he glanced around, clearly not wanting to bother with an apology, after seeing you weren’t going to apologize yourself. You glared at one another without mercy and, in unison started to gather your respective cards, kneeling on the pavement and probably dirtying yourselves. The cards were waaay too important than you getting dirty.

It was a race against time.

You obviously didn’t remember which card was whose and soon, a war started between the two of you, gathering whatever card your hands could land on.It didn’t matter at this point. The ‘contest’ escalated even more when your eyes landed on the rarest rare card of the rare realm, standing alone from the other ones under the light cone of a nearby lamppost. Cue the choir of valkyries singing in the background as both you and the boy stared at it with wide sparkling eyes. Licking your lips greedily, you quickly glanced at him, and he was looking back at you with a frown. For a few moments, you each provoked one another to dare run for it. The pressure was too much though, and you were the first one to burst the bubble, after clearly seeing his intentions to get  _ **your**  _card!

“Don’t you dare, you faggot!” you sneered through your teeth, body tense and poised to jump at a single movement of his.

“Watch me,” he didn’t wait any longer and jumped over to the card. You reacted rapidly, though, and managed to reach it at the same time as he did, successfully grabbing the card. The problem was he also grabbed it. “That is mine!” he growled, pulling the card in his direction.

You weren’t letting up so you pulled the card with the same amount of force “No! It’s mine!”

“Nooo! I’m absolutely sure it’s mine!”

Thus, a tug-o-war started while people watched them with curiosity, some shaking their heads at their childish behaviour: why were there two adults fighting over some Pokemon cards? The world will never know…

“How can you be so sure, I bet you just bought it!” you guessed and his eyes narrowed in surprise for a second.

“S-So did you!” You hissed in response at his inquiry. He spat. “Of course you’d like it to be yours, it’s a rare!”

“Well no duh! It’d make sense for you to lie about it about knowing for sure it’s yours!”

“You could also be lying!”

“Give it!”

“No!”

“URRRGH!” with that war cry, you let go of the card, not out of giving up, but coming up with an idea to settle this once and for all. He fell on his ass with a grunt, but he was too happy with his victory to care. He laughed like an evil mastermind, holding the card triumphantly in the air, but you cut him off angrily by getting your phone out. “No! I am not giving up!”

“What are you doing?” he asked, confused.

“Get your Pokemon game on, asshole! I’m gonna battle you for it!” you challenged and it stirs something in him because he’s up in a second, taking his own phone out. He’s grinning wolfishly, feeling the smell of the blood in the air. He puts the card on the ground between you two, as the prize, and the screen light up your hungry-for-battle faces.

“It’s on!”

The battle is long and hard and at the end of it, both are sweating. In the beginning, it all seemed a game, both thinking that they were going to win by a landmark, both finding the other weak. However, that wasn’t the case. Somehow, the battle drawn on for ages, your triumphant smiles disappearing soon enough after seeing how good the opponent was. Even a small crowd forms around you after seeing how intense things were. Shit was getting serious and just when each was about to give up, you made a mistake. From too much concentration, you accidentally pressed a wrong command and it did nothing to end the boy’s—Max, his game tag said—Pokemon.

“No!” you gasped as he easily defeats your own dying Pokemon. “Nooo!” you fall to your knees, your heart broken from the loss; that was a really good card that you let go of. And it was a shame. ‘Why is this happening, God??’ You hang your head dramatically. You don’t even hear the pity claps behind you; that wouldn’t have made things better. You sigh “Fine…you won it fair and square. You can make fun of me all you want…”

“I won’t do that…” he says a bit more softly than you expected and you look up at him, surprised. He’s smiling as he extends his hand in front of your face. “That was a good match. Best I’ve ever had.”

“Oh.” You weakly smile back, feeling a lot more better after seeing him finally smiling. It was cheering you up to see how different and chill the boy was now. “I agree.” You slap your hand into his and he helps you up. “I guess you’ve earned that card.” You bitterly said, still feeling rather salty about it.

“Of course!” he brags, but somehow, you don’t mind anymore. You did really believe it has been a good fight. “I am the fucking Pokemon Master!”

You laugh, taking out your remaining cards and shuffling through them. You shrug “These are not half bad anyway. I hope you enjoy it.”

The boy’s smile turns into a straight line, seeming to ponder something, as you both stare at one another in awkwardness and silence. ‘What now?’ You looked around; it got dark without realizing, so you naturally assumed it was pretty late. “So, umm, listen, it’s late—“

“Hey,” he interrupts, looking into your eyes seriously. You wait for him to speak again. “What about my prize?”

“Your…prize?” ‘What is he on about? Does he want to humiliate me further?’ You didn’t want to believe you had been wrong about him a couple of seconds ago. 

“Yeah,” Max grins. “I’ve won. And I honestly don’t want only a Pokemon card from a cute girl like you.”

You can’t help but blush, at a loss. He was handsome, the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen, sure; but this was all so sudden! “Uh…” And yet you felt as if you wanted this, to get to know him better.

“What do you say? How about you take me out?” Max smirks. 

_Cheeky cunt._


	2. sweet treat

His beautiful green eyes widen in surprise and delight at the sight of the feast in front of him, neatly set on the table in the kitchen. He looks at you, a large smile toying on his lips, pointing with the index finger to the various desserts spread out. You let out a short laugh and nod “Yes, it’s all for you, silly!”

“Oh, fuck me,” he says in awe, completely enraptured by the bright colours. He was almost salivating, gaze running quickly over each dish, not knowing where to start. Still in a daze, he sits down on the chair, looming dangerously over the nearest cake. “You didn’t have to,” he adds, gazing briefly in your direction.

“Of course I had to!” you counter, slightly offended that he thought this way. “It’s  _your_ birthday!”

“Yeah, but—“

“No, shush, I won’t hear any of it,” crossing your arms over your chest, you let him no room for protest.

“Yeah, ok,” he is quick to brush you off, the cakes and sundaes being much more important than trying to argue with you. “Did you make them yourself?”

You don’t know what to say, to be honest. Obviously you didn’t have the time to bake all of them because he wanted to take you out on a cute date on his birthday. As if this was about you and not him. You were not going to accept that and you told him so. However, he insisted, so you had no choice but to order the supposed present while he was taking a bath, courtesy of your intense persuading to relax before you go out. ‘You can at least do this for me!’ you told him and he listened to you, or else he won’t hear the end of it.

You knew how much he loved sweets, so what’s a better gift than this? It was a flawless plan and his reaction told you he liked it. Forget the date; you two can go any other day. For now…

“Ummm—“

“Let me guess,” Max grins mischievously, raising an eyebrow “You did not.”

You feel your cheeks reddening. “I…I tried one but…” you pout, looking in the direction of the trashcan. “…it was a fail.” In this relationship, Max was the better cook because you were an absolute mess. It was amazing that you didn’t burn the whole kitchen down yet. But he appreciated your efforts and encouraged you every time, and you kept on trying for him. ‘One day, I’m sure you’ll be better than me!’ he tells you and his positivity is so overwhelming that you can’t help but believe him.

Max smiles sympathetically at you and changes the subject “Do I have to eat them all?”

“No. Eat as much as you like,” you take the time to sit down on the other side of the table so you two were facing one another. Crossing your legs, you put your elbows on the wooden surface and rest your chin in your palms, watching him with fondness. “There’s no hurry, right?”

“Shit, you know I never hurry when tasting delicious fucking sweets.” He picks up the spoon as you grin. He is eyeing the strawberry cake right in front of him, so you know for sure that that’s going to be his first.

“Enjoy~” you cheer and he doesn’t need to be told twice. Eagerly, he takes the first bite and murmurs in delight at the taste. Various ‘It’s so sweet! Mmm, so good!’ comes out of his mouth as he keeps on munching and you laugh at the way his cheeks looks like a chipmunk’s or his attempts to speak with his mouth full. He could be so adorable sometimes!

And you were so lucky to have such a handsome man beside you.

“What is it?” he suddenly interrupts your train of thoughts and you snap awake, not realizing that you’ve been dozing off. “Do I have something on my face?” he turns his head to the side, trying to show you if he really did. You laugh, feeling happiness bubbling in your chest out of the blue.

“Nothing. I just love you.”

Max is taken aback by your sudden confession. It’s not as if it was the first time he hears it, however, it flusters him every time, making it impossible for him to respond. You got used to it though, and you don’t mind it. He’s the one that reassures you of his feelings in the right moment, making it a lot more meaningful. Still, maybe there was a secret pleasure of yours to see him blushing over three silly little words that held so much in them.

He says nothing besides a snort, his face burning hot from embarrassment, as he avoids your gaze and focuses only on the desserts. He couldn’t lie to you though. That one second he made eye contact with you screamed a mute ‘I love you too’. Feeling rather elated after seeing that, you grab a marshmallow from a bowl and carefully dipped it into some chocolate sauce.

“Maaax~” you chant his name, making him look up at you warily, thinking that you had other means of taking him aback. When he sees your cute smile and the way you were holding that soft marshmallow between your fingers, his heart skips a beat and he drops the spoon on the plate with a loud clatter. Your gaze immediately scolds him and he mutters an apology. That seemed to please you as you lean over the table to get closer to him. “Open wide…”

He’s too mesmerized by you sensual tone of voice to actually listen, his lips only parting slightly. Giggling at his reaction, you press the marshmallow between his plump and soft lips and he takes it from there, biting it. His teeth cut through the poor marshmallow like saws and you have to retract your hand in fear that he might bite your fingers off too. That seems to get him some of his confidence and cockiness back since, as he chews, he smirks and says “Scared?”

You gaze at him levelly, not wanting to give him any satisfaction. Instead, you pop the remaining marshmallow into your mouth. “Hey! That was mine!”

You were really tempted to tell him ‘Then come and get it’, but you opt for another choice “There’s plenty more where that came from.” You offer the bowl, pushing it closer to him.

He frowns, begging you with those dazzling green eyes of his. “I don’t want to eat them by myself!”

“You’re so picky,” you roll your eyes, although it was all part of your plan to tease him. “Do you want me to feed you?” you suggest playfully, as if it hasn’t been on your mind from the beginning. 

He grins widely, showing off his pearly white teeth “If you insist…”An airy laugh leaves your mouth and you take another marshmallow between your fingers. “Oh no, munchkin,” he smirks and you confusedly glance at him. He pats his thighs and your face is immediately on fire from his suggestion. “We’re doing this my way.”

“Max, come on! You can’t be serious…” you feebly protest, unsure of this decision since it might evolve into a lot more and you didn’t feel like getting dirty just yet. There was always the end of the day for sinful deeds like these.

“It’s my birthday, my rules.” You know you had no choice in the matter in the first place. Birthdays always made the ones celebrating seem like some sort of master for the day and the others are obliged to do whatever the birthday person desired.

You purse your lips, still blushing. “If you promise to behave!”

“When didn’t I?” He knows very well.

“You spoiled brat,” with a heavy fake sigh, you stand up and walk as sensual as you could towards him. He’s eyeing you up and down and he’s eager to see you on top of him. “How do you want me to stay?” you sarcastically ask, playing along with his ego.

“However you want,” he was obviously challenging you to straddle his hips and put your legs around him but you sat normally in his lap. The disappointment on his face was worth it. He didn’t have the time to protest because you shoved the marshmallow still in your hand in his mouth. He gasps in surprise as you take out your fingers to turn and take some more. “I want chocolate ones too!” he whines, obviously not satisfied with your overall treatment.

“Yes, coming, your Highness,” you do as instructed and turn back to him. “Say ‘Aaah’.” He opens his mouth and you toss it inside.

“Hey, not like this!” Max grabs your waist and squeezes your side as if to punish you. You squirm under his touch, being a little bit ticklish. Cocking your head to the side, you mutely ask him to instruct you further. And he was going to instruct you real good. He leans over to you, his warm breath tickling your ear, as he whispers lowly “More chocolate. And do it a lot…more…slowly,” at the end, he grazes your earlobe with his teeth. A shiver runs down your spine and you close your eyes for a second, losing yourself to the sensation he was creating. He doesn’t let you enjoy it since he pinches the skin on your arm, making you jolt awake. “I’m waiting…” he taps his foot impatiently to emphasize this and you sigh.

You had no choice. You take one more marshmallow and dip it completely into the chocolate sauce. Making sure that no drops drip on either of you, you hold your hand underneath it. But an idea pops inside your head as you glance at his lips. Smirking not so innocently, you ask him “Shall I put on the lipstick now?”

“Lipstick? What are you—“

You interrupt him, grinning mischievously “Pucker up~”

“Huh?” he was not going to listen so with your other hand you grab his chin and hold him in place, pushing his cheeks together in the same motion. You chuckle because of his fish-like expression, but you’re not going to get distracted now. You press the chocolaty marshmallow on his lips and trace it, leaving smears of sauce behind. “Agh—wait!” Max tried to get away but you don’t let him.

“Stay put!” you giggle as you accidentally made a mistake and dirtied his chin, making him look ridiculous. Soon, his lips are completely coated in chocolate, but he had had enough of this. He starts moving his fingers all over your body, tickling you and you squirm, toss and turn in an attempt to brush him off. It doesn’t work and you can’t run away either. You’re stuck with him and he’s stuck with you. “N-No, stop—“ you said between laughter.

It all stopped the moment the marshmallow slips out of your grip and falls with a splat on the ground. You both look at it, feeling regretful that you wasted a good marshmallow. A big sigh escapes Max’s mouth. “Look what you’ve done,” he scolds you, his gaze smouldering you. “You deserve to be punished, [name].”

The growl he elicits makes you attentive, his green orbs mesmerizing you. He takes the chance to roughly grab you by the thighs, digging his fingers into them. He maneuvers you with ease, slinging your leg around his waist. You had no choice but to comply to his wishes this time, trapping him with your legs. He doesn’t mind, supporting you tightly by the ass. He squeezes your buns slightly, but he doesn’t receive the squeal you usually let out when he does so. Instead, you nonchalantly lace your arms around his neck, resting your forehead onto his and awaiting this so called punishment. “What do you want me to do,  _master?_ ” you inquire, unused to calling him that but you have been wanting to try it for a long time.

“Clean me up, duh,” he demands rather rudely, jutting out his lip in superiority.

“Alright~” you grin and, supporting yourself by his neck, you lean backwards, the world turning upside down. You blindingly search for some napkins, forgetting for a second you don’t actually have them spread out on the table.

“What are you doing to me…” you hear Max moan softly, but you can’t hear him over the rushing blood into your head. A cold hand of his goes underneath your shirt, holding you by the back, as he dips low and presses his chocolaty lips on your collarbone.

You take a sharp intake of breath and try to stand up but he doesn’t let you. You protest lightly, murmuring something about him dirtying you, but he continues to suck and kiss on your collarbones, then moves onto your neck.

“Oh…” you mewl, curling your fingers into his hair, holding yourself for dear life. You can feel him grin onto your skin but then proceeds to bite your neck. “Mmm…” you bring your head back up, the wave of dizziness confusing you for a few seconds. Max continues his assault, kissing your jaw line sensually.

“Babe…” he purrs, staring at you through half-lidded eyes. You look back down at him, losing your composure at the sight.

“Ma—“ he doesn’t let you finish his name because he captures your lip with his, not wasting any time into shoving his tongue inside your mouth. A heated battle commences between the two of you, trying to establish dominance. He easily wins and you don’t mind letting him in. He roams and attacks your lips roughly, leaving you no room to respond. His nails scratch your back, making you moan and that gets him moaning too. The kiss continues endlessly; until you ran out of breath that is. You part, panting heavily against one another, your lips sore and bitten. Both of you are smiling at one another, content with everything that was going on in this relationship.

“Happy birthday, Max…” you whisper, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck. He hugs you tightly to his chest, inhaling your scent.

“Thank you.” he kisses your temple. “I love you too.”    


	3. Her hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested: Max is jealous of you because your kid prefers you over him.

He wakes up to the smell of pancakes, like every morning. A thing he got used to ever since he married you and could neverget tired of. He loved the pancakes you made, either drizzled with honey or coated with whipped cream and a strawberry on top. Or even the cute ones on top of which you carefully drew with syrup different adorable things, much to your daughter’s delight.The thought of your cooking made his mouth water and he struggles to wipe away his last grains of sleep and get up. He has to hurry to you.

Groaning, he gets off the bed, uncaring of his untidy and messy self. He yawns, scratching his head while shuffling down the stairs. When he got closer to where you were, his ears swiftly pick up the sound of your sweet voice, as you sang a children’s tune. Enticed by your singing and how lovely it sounded, his steps take him to the kitchen, stopping at the entrance. Leaning against the doorway, he watches the scene unfolding before his eyes.

_At the lovely family he had._

At you, who had your back turned to him, dressed in some loose clothes that were probably his, with an apron on top. You loved wearing his shirts and pants—and he never got tired of watching you in them. As you sang, you were flipping the pancakes, the melody resonating throughout the whole kitchen. He liked that. He liked it very much. But the other person who also liked it was the fruit of your marriage: the little kid who looked more like you than him. He didn’t mind that, though. He loved both of you equally.

_And Max was happy._

Your kid was mesmerized by you. Looked utterly in love as she sat at the table—probably the only time when she was behaving, to be honest. The rascal was actually listening and not drawing on the table for once. It always amazed him when she acted so nicely around you and never with him. He couldn’t understand why your kid liked you so much when he was the one that made her laugh the most. She seemed more into you—maybe because you actually paid attention to her and spend quality time with her. He didn’t; he was always tired.

But still… _He tried_.

Her eyes—the colour that resembled his own—spot him and she turns to look at him. He smiles, putting a finger on his lips to shush her up and not disturb you, but she doesn’t listen,  _of course_. “Daddy!” she cries out with a large smile on her lips, arms spread out for a hug.

“Ah!” you interrupt your singing and turn around, a huge smile on your face that lightens up the whole room and lifts his spirits up. “Good morning, darling~”

“Daddy! Daddy! Do you like mommy’s singing?” the little kid asks as he saunters over to her, yawning.

“Course I do, sweetheart,” he ruffles the scamp’s hair then walks over to the main attraction— _you._ Max wraps his arms around your waist from behind, kisses you on the lips, then stays there, with his chin resting on her shoulder. “Morning…” he whispers huskily, his rough sleepy voice tickling your neck. You giggle. “Smells good.”

“They’re almost done. You can sit down.”

He purrs in discontent, but with one last kiss on the cheek, he sits down next to your daughter, wanting to start up a conversation with her. But she ignores Max, preferring to colour in her book. He frowns, but he’s distracted by you finishing up and putting the plate stacked with pancakes on the table.

“Put your crayons away, munchkin,” Max instructs your kid but, instead of compliance, he gets defiance.

“No!” she declares, shaking her head vehemently and pouting, her lips jutting out with superiority. He finds that cute, though.

“Honey…” your tone takes a threatening tone, though your daughter does not seem too impressed. Instead, she grins brightly, almost innocently. “Listen to your father.”

“No! I only listen to you!”

Max is taken aback by this and his face falls in dismay and hurt. You notice that immediately and you scold her with your gaze. “That’s not very nice, young lady.”

“But it’s true! You told me not to lie! Ever!”

“Hon—“

“Let me handle this,” Max intervenes, despite the hurt he felt in his heart. He tries to put on a serious expression—even if your daughter totally think he’s goofy and never takes him seriously—and leans over the table to look into her eyes. “Why is that?”

Your daughter crosses her arms while you sigh and take off your apron. This was going to be a long day… “Because I like her! She’s my favourite!” You can totally picture the moment Max’s heart breaks into tiny fragments and he can’t hide the emotions he was feeling from showing on his face. He looks so damn disheartened and sad by your daughter’s words, as if his whole world came tumbling down. You rush to put a comforting hand on his back, but he doesn’t react. He’s still waiting for an appropriate answer.

“And I’m not?”

She frowns, thinking about it. “You are, but I like mommy more. She always takes care of me, makes my favourite food and combs my hair!” Max gulps, a surge of anger coursing through his body; but he knows he shouldn’t be angry at you for spending more time with her. He was angry at himself for not having paid attention to her needs. He believed that if he had a daughter, she’s always going to be daddy’s little girl without even trying. Seems like he has been wrong. Her daughter  _hated_ him entirely. “And she plays with me all the time!” She jumps off the chair and runs to you, latching herself onto your legs and rubbing her cheeks against it. “I love mummy!” Your daughter stares into her father’s eyes, not realizing that he was hurting him so. She was just doing what she believed was right. “You never play with me.”

“Honey—“ you try to stop them from fighting, but it was too late.

“What do you mean?” Max asks her, curious in what was the reason she thought so.

Your daughter is ruthless “When I asked you to have a tea party with me today, you said you were busy.” She pouts and Max’s heart sinks even more at that. He remembers. She looked so happy as she skipped to him, latched onto his leg, with love in her big innocent eyes. How sweetly she begged of him to attend the party  _he_ was so ceremoniously invited—and  _you_  were not, for once. And how he probably broke her heart when he explained that he couldn’t, that ‘daddy is busy with editing’. He regretted not noticing the expression of utter disappointment on her face. Because now, it looked as if she didn’t know him at all, as if he was a despicable stranger. And it only happened in the lapse of a day. He sighed; he couldn’t understand kids at all. And he felt jealous that you had all the time in the world, could play with her and bond. That you were so fresh and lovely every morning, got nothing else to do. Yet he knew he couldn’t blame you for this. He’s still heartbroken, though, and it is plain to see.

“Oh. I get it.” His tone of voice is filled with pain and it hurts you in return to see him so down like this, a hollow look haunting his expression.

“Max—“ you try to say, but he stands up suddenly and pushes your hand away. “Max, please—“

“I’m fine,” he attempts to smile, but you don’t buy it. “I’ll be in my room. I’m not hungry, I’ll eat later.” Your husband quickly says and runs upstairs, defeated.

“What’s wrong with daddy? He looked sad…” she gazes up at you as you sigh, and you crouch at her level.

“He had a rough night, didn’t sleep well.” You stroke her soft hair, trying to sound sweet and not let worry slip into your voice. “I need to go see how he is. Can you eat pancakes by yourself?”

“Yes!” she chirps happily, a determined expression on it that reminded you so much of Max. “I’m a big girl, I can do that!”

“I know you can, munchkin.” You kiss the top of her head and watch as she struggles to get up the chair and, when you’re sure she was safe, you let her be and go to console your depressed husband.

 ***

“Max?” you slowly open the door to his workplace and see him in his chair, hugging his knees to his chest and eyes glued to his computer. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to what he was doing, though, and he kept on sighing heavily. “Max, darling.” You go to him, but he doesn’t move to greet you like he usually does. You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle the top of his head, his still long and messy hair tickling you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he responds.

‘He’s so upset!’ “Come on, you can’t lie to me.” You run your fingers through his hair in an attempt to both comfort him and comb his hair. “You can tell me. I want to make you feel better.”

In that moment, he breaks down completely, staring up a rant. “Our kid hates me, [name]!”

“She doesn’t, Max.”

“Yes, she does! Have you seen the way she treats me? She obviously hates me for not playing with her. One time! She asks me one time to play and I am too tired to listen and now she hates my guts!” he whines pathetically, as you try to soothe his jealousy by massaging his shoulders.

“She does not hate you. How could she? You’re her dad, her hero!” Max scoffs at that, but you don’t acknowledge it. “She’ll forget about it tomorrow, you know how kids are.”

“Seems like I don’t…” He crosses his arms and pouts, acting like a child himself. “I thought girls were supposed to love their fathers.”

You sigh, your hands continuing in rubbing his shoulders, attempting to relax him. “Well, you’re not trying, Max. If you could spend some time with her, I’m sure she’ll fall in love with you!”

“As if it is that easy!”

Getting a little mad at his attitude, you spin him around so he could face you and you grab his cheeks so he could look into your eyes. “Stop being so stubborn!” He mumbles something under his breath and averts his eyes, earning an exasperated sigh from you. “Look. Why don’t you make it up to her?”

“How?” You smirk. So he was at least interested in what you had to say.

“Why don’t you read her a bedtime story in my stead?”

“HAH!” before he could reject it by thinking it was stupid, you kiss him forcefully on the lips, making him forget for a second about what was bothering him. He kisses back fervently, his hands travelling down your spine and reaching your buttocks, attempting to pull you into his lap. But you resist, breaking the kiss, much to his dejection, and smile cockily.

“Just think about it, ok?”

“…” he says nothing, but you already know his answer and it makes you chuckle. He was so easy to read. You know he loves his daughter and he’ll do anything to fall back into her graces.

“I’ll leave you to it, darling. Have a nice and prosperous day.”

 ***

You wake up with a start and glance around frantically. No one was around in the living room, but the lamp was still on. You feel something in your hand and see your book that you have been reading before you fell asleep. Yawning tiredly, you notice how dark it was outside and, basically, how late it was. You briefly wondered where your husband and daughter were since last time you saw them, he was typing on his laptop and she was making a puzzle on the floor, all of you in one room. They didn’t interact with each other the whole day and it has worried you. But the room was empty now…The puzzle was still unfinished and the laptop was opened on the couch. You wondered what happened…

And yet you had a vague idea. Smiling lightly, you put your book aside and close the laptop, as well as turning off the lights. Carefully, you go upstairs after making sure the front door was locked. The door to your daughter’s room is open, a faint light coming outside on the corridor. You tiptoe to it and open it slightly, peering inside.

“Aww…” you can’t help but gush at the cute sight in front of your eyes.

Both of them were sleeping heavily, surrounded by the stuffed animals your daughter owned. Max was resting on the big bear behind him, a book opened and forgotten in his lap. He was holding her close with an arm protectively wrapped around her body as your daughter was cuddled up to his side, her head on his chest. She was holding tightly her favourite toy: the horse Max bought her. ‘And he says she does not like him.’ You shake your head, a permanent smile on your lips as you stare at them fondly for a few precious moments. You wanted to take a picture, but you’re afraid of waking them up, so you only go to them, sit down on the bed and stroke your daughter’s hair for a few seconds. Then, deciding you didn’t have space next to them, you let them be, pulling up the blanket over the both of them.

“My two little babies…” you whisper proudly and kiss them both on the forehead, stirring them, but not waking them up.

Closing the light, you give them one more look before closing the door to leave them be.  


	4. green-eyed monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request with one of the boys (we chose Max) getting jealous over you speaking in French with Julian constantly. Enjoy~

Your happy laughter annoyed him. Normally, it wouldn’t, but this time…boy, was Max pissed and he had his reasons to feel this way. You weren’t supposed to be laughing with anyone—at least a  _male­—_ other than him. Wasn’t  _he_ supposed to make you laugh like this? But here you were—in his own home—totally ignoring him in the favour of another. 

“Ce fut un film vraiment amuzante, je dois l’admettre ( _It was a very amusing movie, I have to admit)_ ,” you say, standing there on the couch and leaning over the back seat, arm slung carelessly over it. Your fingers almost brushing against your conversation companion’s head… 

 

“Oui, je suis d’accord ( _Yeah, I agree_ ),” Julian— _supposedly Max’s friend,_ but at this point in time, Max highly doubt considering him a friend at all—answered you, his eyes only focused on your smile. 

‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!’ Max glares at the two of you, so out of his reach. Sure, you asked him to join you—though he felt as if you only asked him out of politeness, not because he had something insightful to contribute to the conversation. ‘I have work to do, [name], stop bothering me!’ he answered in a rather rude tone; mostly because he was tired of you inviting his friend over all the fucking time. He wasn’t pleased that he had to see Julian here,  _in your love nest_ , every single day. In the beginning, he understood why you were so eager to meet him: you hadn’t conversed with a fellow French speaker in a long time, despite being French yourself. When Max introduced you to Julian because you both spoke the same language fluently, he did it because he wanted to see you happy. And you thanked him accordingly later for the opportunity. He did all this because Max loved you more than anything in this world (besides Pokemon, let’s be fair) and he wanted to see your smile. 

But this… _This_ was crossing the line. It looked as if he was the third wheel because you weren’t giving him any of the attention he deserved. He didn’t want you to think he was an attention whore (but he secretly is) so he kept quiet. Suck it in and let the jealousy grow inside. And he was at the boiling point now because the way you looked at Julian…He was unsure if you actually meant it or his mind was playing tricks, but…That look was only reserved to him. Those eyes should only look at  _him,_  that smile was his and  _you_ belonged to HIM! 

This whole situation was just ridiculous. 

He hears you respond something in French (Max can’t understand French at all, sadly) and then Julian’s laugh. He grips the pencil harder, the tapping growing insistent. He couldn’t concentrate at all in trying to find ideas for a new video and it was pissing him off. He wasted so many days of brainstorming only because  _he_ was around. ‘What happened to  _our_ time together, [name]?!’ he desperately thinks, missing in touching you so freely. Ok, to be honest, he didn’t quite care about PDA in front of others—he can never stop himself from touching your body in public—but, when you were totally not responding: that was rather painful. He wasn’t going to be shamed again, so he stayed away. Which has proved to be a mistake. 

You only got closer to Julian. 

‘What’s so great about that Frenchie, anyway?’ he’d asked himself, but he could find no answer. He still wanted to believe in you, despite jealousy getting the better of him. He sighs heavily and runs a hand through his luscious locks. Max only wished you’d just pay a little bit of attention to him…He’d immediately stop thinking so negatively.

Your giggle is the thing that makes him look back at you—in spite of him telling himself to  _not_ do that because it was such a killjoy. And he catches your eye, that lascivious half-lidded look that holds so many promises in it. He involuntarily gulps, suddenly feeling rather horny and desperate for you, but his anger is too strong to let it rule. But damn…How could such a beautiful creature like you turn him on so easily? And how could he be mad at you for wanting a friend? He understood your sadness and need because he couldn’t speak French himself. He wished he could, but he was skilled in other regions that kept you happy, if he can brag about it. 

He smiled when you puckered up your lips a bit and blew him a kiss. Max melted on the spot and he suddenly felt a lot more relieved. A new surge of energy went through his body—he felt as if he could create the perfectest video ever! The boy was about to answer to your ‘call’ accordingly, when he was interrupted.

“Ce qui est avec ce regard? Se sentir excitée? ( _What’s with that look? Are you feeling excited?)_ ” Julian chuckles and your attention is immediately on him. Max grits his teeth, a crunching sound following, but you don’t hear. You only have eyes for  _Julian._ Aaaand, just like that, he is jealous again. 

Wait…He pauses, his mind trying to comprehend what was bothering him all of a sudden. 

“Tais-toi! Ce n’est pas ça! ( _Shut up! That’s not it!)_ ” you answer, your cheeks getting red, a stupid smile painted on your lips.  _He hates that._ No—he hates what he just heard. He didn’t think he was overreacting when he believed that he just heard Julian say ‘excited’. As in sexually excited. ‘Did he just ask you if you were turned on?!’ And when he noticed that you had a hand casually on his shoulder…

That was it.

“Dude, if you want to break up with me, just say so!” he exploded out of the blue, standing up and glaring at the two of you. Both you and Julian are taken by surprise and watch him fuming with wide eyes. 

“Max—“

“When were you going to tell me, [name]? Huh?” Max doesn’t see reason any more, the uncertainty too deeply rooted. 

“What are you talking about?” you ask, brows furrowed. 

“Don’t play dumb!” he starts to yell—successful in only making you sigh. You were pretty much used to Max’s random anger outbursts and you knew he’d run out of steam,  _eventually._ The key was not to give him any reason to get even angrier and just let him get it all out. “I’ve seen you two flirting!”

“When did we do that?” Julian asks, though he seemed as if he’d rather not intervene. 

“All the time! Ever since you met! Talking in that… _gibberish_. You’re doing this on purpose, huh? Think that if I don’t understand, then that’s fine, no?”

You give him a stern look, as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Max, please, that’s not it—“

“Then why is he over here all the time and not giving  _me_ any attention?” he yells in frustration and immediately realized his mistake when he saw the curling smirk in the corners of your mouth. You planned all this and he fell right into your trap. “[name], no—“

Calmly, you smile at the long haired boy “Julian, I’m sorry for telling you this, but can we continue this conversation another time? I’d like to talk to Max in private.” 

Julian lets out a big sigh, gives Max a pity look—but Max could totally see the mischief in there. ‘They’re totally in on this!’ It was too late for him to do anything about it, though. Julian stands up and, saying his goodbyes, he leaves the room. 

Silence. A long and awkward silence that further embarrassed Max. He secretly hoped you couldn’t hear his intense heartbeat or feel the heat radiating from his cheeks.

“So…” Max flinches at the sound of your amused tone, and glances at you leaning against the back of the couch, cheek in your palm. But that smirk—it was killing him. “What was that all about, Maxie?”

He’s getting all defensive, trying to sound superior and unaffected, but fails to be convincing “What you-you heard!” 

“Oh. I did hear. All of it…” you tease him, chuckling slightly. “And to me, it sounds as if you’re jealous, Max.”

“As if!” he bursts guiltily and he can’t look you in the eye.

“You are!” the happy chirping annoys him. He can’t believe he let jealousy get the best of him. He promised you he won’t ever get, but here he was. Jealous over nothing. “That’s so cute, Maxie!”

“It’s not funny, [name]!” he barks at you, but you’re not disturbed by it. You only find it endearing. “It looked serious!”

Your amused expression disappears for a few seconds, your eyes sharp and judging “Did you really think that of me, hmm?” He feels even more ashamed of himself after seeing that you were not joking. “Do you trust me so little?”

“N-No, I just…” he trails off, unsure.

“C’mere,” you instruct harshly and he has no choice but to follow your order; especially after seeing how seductively you called him over with your index finger. Ugh, he hated when he was such a bitch and totally under your spell. In this state, he just couldn’t resist you. He grumpily walked over to you and, when he was close, you pulled him downwards so he was straddling your waist. He had his arms around your head on the couch, towering above you like a cute and innocent dove—clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness. “Will it hurt you to smile, Max?” you coo, feigning a bit of hurt. “I’m the pained one here because of your mistrust, you know.” 

He is immediately feeling sorry after seeing that cute little pout of yours. However, he’s still not convinced. “But…you…always call him over.” He tries to argue and fails. “And you always speak in that language of yours…”

“It’s just French, Max. I need some practice, don’t I?” a hand caresses his jaw while the other runs down his spine teasingly. You smirk “Wouldn’t you like it if I dirty talked to you in French?”

He scoffs “I don’t understand it so it won’t work.”

It makes you laugh, and so, you drop the topic “Besides, didn’t you find this at least a bit suspicious?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You lean towards him, craning your neck up towards his lips and feeling his rapid hot breath against your mouth “I did this all on purpose, just to make you jealous.” His eyes widen in surprise but then he feels like a fool for not figuring it out earlier. Your sly nature was a well-known attribute that you weren’t shy of showing off. How many times did you trick him? He lost count, to be honest, but…this didn’t cross his mind for a second: that you were playing around with him, expecting a reaction. And the effort was well paid off. Max didn’t even know how to react any more.

“Why?!” 

“Why?” you chuckle, soothing his anger by roughly grabbing his arse. You knew he loved that and it could very well distract him from the core of the problem. “Just felt like it.”

He laughs dryly, repeating your words. “You’re evil.” 

“Am I?” you mutter, fingers possessively running through his hair and grabbing it. Your eyes turn sharp, swirling with mad love. “I wanted to spice things up.” you roughly pull his hair and he moans, closing his eyes and starting to breathe heavily. He doesn’t even dare to touch you when you were in this dominating state because he knows that either way, he’s in for a treat. He can only tremble like a little bitch and await your next move. “Did I hurt you, Maxie?” He gulps, nodding his head. He feels you pulling his head towards you, mouth to his ear. “I’m so sorry…” Max knows better than to not believe that. He knows you enjoyed teasing him because the sex afterwards was great. “But I can’t help myself, you’re so damn cute when you’re jealous, he he.” Biting his earlobe, you go on. “It makes me so horny…” 

Hearing your whiny and needy tone gets him hard in a second and he takes a deep sharp breath. Involuntarily, he starts grinding against you..

“And do you really think that I’d leave you for a guy like him? Don’t you know that I love every little thing about you…? From your top…” you trail off as he holds his breath, lips touching his cheek gently in a fluttering kiss. “…to the bottom.” If your voice has been soft at the start of the sentence, it gets rougher at the end. To emphasize your point, you grab his junk, to which he throws his head back.

“Oh fuck…” he says in a squeaky and whiny voice.

“Needy…” you say, running your hands all over his body, wanting to entice him more. “Can you forgive me, though?” 

This time, he reacts more directly, opening his eyes and smirking wolfishly. You shudder, loving the look he had on him. “Only if you show me that you mean it. And it’ll take a lot to win my trust again.” 

You chuckle darkly, expression turning serious “Oh, believe me…” You bite on his lower lip and pull seductively, not letting him to kiss you like he wanted to. “I’ll do  _anything_ to prove to you once and for all, Max…” the husky whispers makes him moan, ready to take you right now. “…how loyal I am to you and how much I love you…” you finish with a grunt. He shudders.

The deal is sealed with a heated kiss.   


	5. the librarian - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got the idea after seeing Max wearing glasses (and basically the whole outfit) on a livestream with Chad (know this might sound as a lie but I swear I’ve written this before he got his glasses V_V).

_Completely in love. Thunderstruck. Head over heels._  And so much, so much more.

But no amount of words and phrases from a dictionary could describe the intense feelings your heart was pumping into your brain and the  _stress_ that plagued you. And believe me—you’ve read your fair share of dictionaries in your life. But there was still more for you to learn and when it came to romance, you were far from experienced. Maybe this was the first time you’ve ever felt romantic  _love_ towards a human—partially because you were too often with your nose in the books. Your eyes only saw pages, your fingers only felt the texture of the cover and your nose could only smell the great old or new fragrance of a new encyclopedia. A downright textbook nerd—but you were proud of the title and no blockhead could tell you otherwise. They’ll have to make a whole ten plus pages with arguments to prove you wrong.

_And, for the record, you’ve never lost an argument._

But seems like rationality left you the moment feelings came into the equation. Because you couldn’t comprehend what—or rather  _why_ were you in love with such a…a… _mongoloid._ It was starting to get distracting. You couldn’t concentrate anymore on what you were reading and you NEEDED to study for the upcoming exams and there were a lot and— _you were fucking stressed._ It would’ve probably been a good idea to stay at home and study, but that didn’t work at all. You kept on thinking about the man of your dreams even more—at least being in the library all day relaxed you. Plus, you had him in your sights all the time.

“Curse you…” you grit your teeth, annoyed, peering over the edge of the book. You’re rather surprised that he’s not at his usual spot or fucking around…Strange. You don’t recall seeing  _him_  today..

Him. Max Stanley. The new librarian that replaced the old grumpy coot no one liked a month ago. He has been an increasing boom in the library’s reputation as Max was a rather handsome fellow and brought in fan girls. However, that annoyed you. ‘People should come here to study, not  _flirt_!’ and yet, in the situation you were currently in, you couldn’t safely say you were only here to study. At least you were interested in doing both.

Yet those girls were bothering you and you were fairly sure that the pang in your heart was  _jealousy._ Jealous because those girls were braver than you in approaching him. 

You felt attracted to the boy instantly. It was like you were struck by lightning the first moment you laid your eyes on the pretty boy. Your cheeks got red, your palms got clammy and your heart rate increased tremendously. It took you a while to figure your feelings out— _your demise_. Because Max Stanley was certainly not the type of boy you would be attracted to. You always believed that you needed a boy equally intelligent and whom you could converse with at a high level. You didn’t want to say that Max wasn’t smart or something—he had his moments—but most of the time, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

He was a mess. Totally unorganized—well, at least in the first week, until he got used to it all. He was certainly not pleased with this job and he was showing it. He has been angry and grumpy, not paying attention to what he had to do and being rather rude. It almost matched the previous librarian and you secretly hoped he’d get fired. Maybe then your feelings will fade away. But as he kept on working and ( _possibly_ ) with your little supportive help from the sidelines, Max started to be a better person. It made you wonder why; the change has been too sudden. One day he was trashing and cursing, and the other he was kind and all smiley-like.

Kind of weird but it was a welcomed change. Hell, he even started to notice you more because you were probably the only one that went there  _every single day_. You were a regular—day and night, you were sitting by your spot next to the window (it had the best light afterall), your nose stuck in between the covers of a book. Diligently taking notes. Nothing bothered you. Except for Max. He always managed to catch your attention. And he seemed to purposely pass into your line of view every single time he could. It didn’t help the fact that you had the perfect view towards his office, where he sat most of the time,  _texting_ someone—a girl, perhaps? You didn’t think he was single—not a guy like him. Or was he playing Pokemon Go? You caught him once doing that and he blushed cutely, ‘threatening’ you to not tell anyone else about his hobby.

Your lips were sealed.

“Good morning!”, “Leaving so soon?” or “Found what you need?” soon began to be a normal thing between you. You didn’t even realize when it happened and when you started to answer to his questions, involuntarily. It became a common occurrence and somehow, it made you happy. Filled you with positive energy. Made you study harder. Because he was  _so so so so_  cute.

_Do I need to emphasize more?_

You sigh. Why did you have to be in love with your librarian? You gently tap the end of the pencil on your temple, your head hurting a bit. You needed to take a break; today, you forced yourself to focus  _only_ on studying and not Max. It was weird that he wasn’t quite around today. Usually, he’d pass in front of you, holding random books in his arms and arranging them on different aisles. Or he’d stop by your table to ‘pester’ you with irrelevant questions. The boy might even ask you if you stayed late—it happened once. You told him ‘yes’ and he insisted on walking you home. “You don’t want to get mugged or something, do ya?” Most awkward experience ever. You were so nervous, you couldn’t even say a proper sentence without stuttering. He’d laugh it off and never brought it in discussion; and you were very grateful for that.

But still…it made you slightly worried that you could not see him anywhere. Wait. Was this the reason why you studied so well today? That he wasn’t here to bother you? Now that you think about it…it makes sense, doesn’t it? Your heart lurches and you sigh heavily. You didn’t think his absence would cause you such…unhappiness. Your eyes frantically look around, but you see no trace of his ethereal beauty. You didn’t think anyone could make you so desperate, but here you were… _worried_ over a silly librarian.

You weren’t even sure of the reason why you fell for him in the first place—so easily, at least. As if he was a magician that cast a spell on you. He came inside and strutted around as if he owned the place: lips curled into a malicious frown, his green emerald eyes glaring in superiority. He caught your gaze and you instantly felt your body temperature going up. You were mesmerized by this boy. How good his long hair looked, always tidy in a messy way, the piercing gaze, the black rimmed glasses that suited him oh so well. You have to admit that Max in glasses was your favourite thing to see and you studied him accordingly: the way he constantly puts them up his nose or simply finding out he wears them only when he was reading. And he was stylish also, wearing fashionable sweaters and tight jeans that accentuated his rather round… _asset._  The only times when he was wearing comfy clothes was on Saturdays on Sundays; those were the times he gave up on trying to put up a front. Probably because you were the only one present on those days. Then there were his chubby fingers as they tapped on the screen of his phone and— _oh god, you were blushing again._

“Haaaaah….” You breathe out in dismay, resting your chin on the table. “Where is he…?” you think out loud, not afraid of anyone hearing you. It was Sunday so you were all alone with Max. It didn’t bother you; you were sure your crush was unrequited on every level. You had no idea how to flirt and you were not playing on doing so—a boyfriend was going to be a major distraction. And, to be honest, Max didn’t look like the type to go after nerdy girls like you. Even if he tolerated you to some extent and was the only one he asked for advice when in trouble. You were sure to lecture him thoroughly—it happened before he completely did a 360 and changed his attitude. Maybe he realized he actually loved this job he was forced into because of circumstances?

Who knows? Certainly not you. You were definitely not friends. Just simple acquaintances. 

And yet you still missed him. Badly. Today, you only saw him in the morning and he looked rather…troubled? He barely gave you a glance when you saluted him when and just spouted something distractedly. Then he disappeared and you forgot about it since you were too into reading. But now was evening, the sun was setting, casting shadows over your pages and making the writing intelligible. ‘He forgot to turn on the lights…’ rubbing your temples, you start to think about your next move. Sure, you wanted to stay a bit more, but…If he wasn’t willing to walk you home, then you’d better get a move on.

“I have no choice, huh?” It was rather disappointing but you force yourself to forget about and stand up from your spot. The chair skids on the floor, making a loud deranging sound that resonates throughout the whole library—which wasn’t big to begin with. You cringe, waiting to hear Max’s shout to quiet it down, but nothing comes. “Figures,” you mutter and stack your notebooks and pencils inside your bag. Then, you take the books you’ve been reading and proceed to put them in their rightful place. Luckily, they were all from the same aisle. Ironically, the aisle is somewhere in the back of beyond, hidden from view and poorly illuminated. You complained too many times to count but it never got fixed. Oh well. There was nothing more you could do. You walk towards that corner, your eyes and ears open for a single movement from Max. You arrive there without anyone bothering you and neatly stack the books in their respective place; you knew them by heart. Max found you useful in that aspect because he sometimes asked you where a certain book belonged when he forgot. It was rather odd that he was so forgetful. He remembered your birthday just fine…

Sighing for the tenth time, you’re absent-mindedly putting the books on the shelves, not quite paying attention and stalling for time.  _Hoping_ that he’ll appear and charm you with that usual big smile of his. He may not have the perfect set of teeth, but you actually liked his crooked denture. It gave him a certain appeal only you could understand. Your fingers linger too much on the spine of the books as you’re starting to daydream.  _You feel immensely lonely._ Like never before. You had your times of depression, but never like this. Your heart ached—you fucking missed him so badly. ‘If this is how love felt…’ then you’d rather not love at all.

“There you are!”

 _‘Huh?’_ Your head almost snaps off from the velocity with which you turn your head to the end of the row. “M…” you can’t even say the name of the boy as he stands there, panting heavily. He looks dishevelled, as if he ran for miles, hair tossed in all directions—more so than usual—and his clothes looking shabby. His cheeks are red from effort and his eyes sparkle with a certain unsettling determination. It  _troubles_  you. “M-Max?” You were stuttering again. Shit.  

“[name].” You can’t help but squeak in surprise at the intense tone of his. You’ve never heard this kind of low voice of his, filled with deep hot emotions…You couldn’t describe it, but it made you shiver in anticipation. “I’ve finally found you.” He takes a heavy step towards you and you involuntarily take a step back.

“Wha—“

“I’ve been waiting to tell you this,” Max doesn’t let you speak and you could see a sort of hunger glinting in those green orbs of his. In the almost darkening light, it looks threatening, and you feel small and in danger…“I hope you’ll forgive me.” He takes another step and you follow with a step back. You notice how swiftly he takes off his glasses—a move so sexy you could’ve died on the spot.

“For wha—“ you have no time for respite because he’s on you like a wild animal and you were the prey. You can only squeak out meekly as he backs you up onto the wall, your back hitting it roughly. You let out a gasp in pain, but he doesn’t let you breathe properly because his hungry mouth is on yours in a second, capturing your lips in your kiss. “Ma—“ he doesn’t let you speak as he cups your cheeks and holds your face firmly, while keeping on attacking your lips fiercely. You see no way out (not as if you wanted at this point, his mouth felt so  _right_ on yours and you were too far in) so you try to kiss him back—but you have no skills to achieve that. He doesn’t seem to mind as he smiles at your reaction and pulls you close, pinning up your arms. You’re rather taken aback by this action, but enjoy it nonetheless. You liked this hot and steamy kiss between the books, you had to admit that. And it may have been a little fantasy of yours…

Soon enough though, he runs out of breath and your lips part, leaving you to pant heavily. You have no words for what has happened. Your lips feel swollen and tasting of him—that bitter coffee taste—your eyes searching for an explanation. He smiles almost enigmatically, caressing your cheek with his thumbs.

“You look so cute right now, [name],” he tells you, embracing you shortly. You’re still frozen over, unsure what to do. You can only hear his rapid heartbeat and breathing and you were sure he could feel yours also. “I’m sorry for this, but I had to. I couldn’t wait anymore.” Max whispers in your ear, holding you tight against his chest.

“Wha…” ‘Use words, dammit!’ “What do you mean?” your throat feels dry as you try to look up at him but he doesn’t let you.

“Shit, I couldn’t resist anymore. I’ve had a crush on you for a while, you know…” your eyes widen at the sudden confession. ‘Max Stanley had a crush on  _me?!_ How is this even possible?’ Still, you listen further to what he had to say. “I feel bad for thinking about doing nau—“ he shakes his head, his hair gently brushing against your forehead “—kissing you between the stuff you love the most.”

“Books?” you try.

He chuckles “Always the smart one, huh? But yea. You might not like me back because you kept ignoring my signs but…” ‘I did?! Oh, I’m such a fool!’ Maybe now all of the conversations made sense… “I couldn’t resist. So—“

“…mmhlike  to…” you feel your cheeks burning as your fingers curl onto his arms, clinging to him. It was your chance. Now or never. And you were going to take it, despite your intense shyness.

“Hmm? What did you say?” he cocks his head to the side, curious. 

“I said I like you too…” your voice couldn’t get any quieter, but he still hears you.

“Really? You do!?” he exclaims with that childish joy that seems to characterize you and he squeezes you tighter—if that was possible. You felt as if your eyes could pop out of your sockets any minute now but you let him express his feelings. It was rather nice to see such a side to him—the side where he’s rather open. You didn’t expect him to like you back, though. You probably missed the longing look he gave you, or the lingering feeling of his fingers against your when he handed you a book and the special bright smiles he only had reserved for you. It all went past you—all the morning he said ‘hello’ and him making time to converse with you.

_How could’ve you be so blind?_

“I’m really glad, [name]…” he continues the conversation and then lets out a short whine. “Ah, I wish I could just…ugh.”

“What?” you ask innocently and you hear him chuckle.

“Do stuff to you.” His suggestive tone is enough to make you aware of his not so pure intention and a blush spreads onto your cheeks quickly. “But I can’t.” he smirks wolfishly. “At least not now.”

“…You’re such a bad librarian…”

“Hey, you still like me, don’t you?”

“…”

“Don’t you?” he nudges you playfully.

“…I guess so.”  

You couldn’t wait to put the lost and dusty shelves to another use later on, because it was intimate and hidden. And surrounded by silence and books… _Pure bliss._  And you were sure Max Stanley,  _your_ librarian, wouldn’t mind your naughty idea. Not one bit.


	6. the (naughty) librarian (NSFW)

“Good morning, [name],” Max seductively salutes you, passing by the table you were usually sitting at. You jumped in your chair, startled by the familiarity and the loud tone of his voice. You lift up your head, trembling with excitement after seeing his face so close to you. ‘Who allowed him to lean over the table like this?! It’s inappropriate in a library!’ Your face was redder than a tomato, suddenly remembering the taste of the new—well, not that new anymore, a lot of time has passed since then—of the new librarian’s lips onto yours. Of the kiss that happened that late night between the shelves. So you haven’t been exactly a good girl either…

Still, having him so close to you, breathing onto your mouth with a really rich and cocky smile playing on his lips, those greenish eyes peering into yours with adoration—it made your legs melt even if you were already sitting down. Your face could cook eggs from hot it felt—and the widening of his smirk didn’t help too much either.

“Please step away a bit, you’re invading my privacy!” you said through gritted teeth, doing your best to glare at the boy that was supposedly your boyfriend. Well, not supposedly, you really  _were_ together, started only recently, but it was taking time for you to adjust. Being new to relationships in general had it’s disadvantages—but you were learning. After all, you were thirsty for new knowledge and Max Stanley was a perfect test subject. Not meaning that you didn’t have any feelings for the boy; you did, more than you could take in fact. And it was a pain in the ass to deal with all these emotions that gave you anxiety, made you lose time by constantly thinking of him and you couldn’t focus at all on your important studies! It was driving you insane!  _He_ was driving you crazy and he did nothing but kiss you every single time he could. When you were passing by, he’d suddenly grab you and place his lips on top of yours. If you were just sitting still, he’d kiss you. Even if he was running an errand and you were by, he’d kiss you.

It was getting rather annoying…and cute at the same time.

“That never seemed to bother you,” he remarks arrogantly, shrugging his shoulder—oh, how they moved underneath that tight sweater of his, made your mouth water. “I’m always kissing you and I never heard you complaining about it.”

“Well, that’s because you’re taking me by surprise and I’m not ready!” you protest, wanting to just smack him with a book over his head. “I don’t have time to react!”

He finds your pout extremely cute—he almost wants to lean over and kiss you again. But he’s afraid he’s going to get smacked across the cheek with that heavy dictionary, to be honest. “You suck at reacting. Or I am just too charming for you to react.”

“Why you—“

“SHHHH!” someone quickly shuts you both up and Max is quick to apologize, though he feels no remorse. You mumble something under your breath, sitting back down on the chair after standing up to smack him. ‘Look what he makes me do! I’ve  _never_ been shushed in a library before!’

What a shame!

“So, how about dinner later?”

You ignore him, stuffing your nose into a book to show him that you weren’t interested in speaking with him anymore. You still answer after feeling his puppy eyes boring into your forehead. With a sigh, you tell him once again “I thought I told you, Max, we’re not going on a  _date_  until I finish with my exams.”

Max pouts adorably and it takes all your willpower to not stare at him in awe at his beauty. “Come on, you can’t study all the time! You need to take a break once in a while.”

“Nope,” your eyes distractedly scan the paper in front of you, but you could still see him begging you with his puppy eyes.

He frowns, knitting his brows together “Do you have any hobbies?”

“Studying.”

Max groans “Other than studying? I think I figured that out about you by now…”

“Studying some more,” you deadpan, eyeing him and telling him to go away and leave you to your dear studying.

“You’re no fun…” he moans dejectedly, suddenly grabbing the paper in your hands and scanning it bored. “Are you sure you still want to be with me? Think you got the term ‘dating’ wrong…”

“I  _know_  what ‘dating’ means, Max, I’ve not been living in the woods until now, you know.” You brush off his look of ‘I hardly doubt it’ and looked straight at him, feeling glad that you were finally composed and focused. “But I don’t have the luxury of free time like you do.”

Max stands up, running a hand through his lush locks—he looked so handsome in the sun light coming from outside. “You break my heart, you know.” Your own heart skipped a beat at that, trying hard to keep a poker face and not show how much his pained tone hurt you. You didn’t want to hurt him, to be honest, but you had no idea how to act around him. And you’ll surely embarrass yourself, too nervous to even hold a glass of water in your hands. Sure, you went out before you got together, but now that you were with him, you were sure you were going to fuck up somehow.

“Maybe you don’t like me after all…” Max is whining, he knows that, but he can’t help himself. He really liked you and you weren’t showing that you did, despite your words that told him otherwise.

“No!” you burst, letting a bit of your feelings out—just what he wanted to hear. “I-I mean…I do like you, that’s not untrue…”

His mouth widens, showing off his pearly white teeth, and he hands you the paper he stole from you. “That’s what I wanted to hear, sweetie,” he makes you blush and you mumble something under your breath as you attempt to take the paper. When you grab a hold of it, taking advantage of your distracted self to lean over to you—and steal a kiss from you.

“Hey—“ you squeak out, red in the face, as you pulled back from him. “Wha—“ you swat at him and he laughs cutely as a response.

“I’m going to see you later,” he walks away, waving at you with a mischievous glint in those green eyes of him. He was planning something—you knew him well enough to notice that there was something in his mind and that he was going to obtain it. You gulped, shivering in your seat; hopefully, it won’t be something  _bad._  

But you knew him—it was always something bad.

You shake your head after waving weakly at him, with a feeble (and in love) smile, until Max disappears out of your line of sight. Sighing loudly, you bury your face in your arms and just felt to scream at the sexual tension around you two. He was driving you insane, with every little thing he did—and you were still such a  _virgin_  when it came to all of this. Not having experimented enough, though you still mingled.  _Once._  You wanted to die out of shame, even more so when you remember how you stayed late at night on sites to search for info, for other person’s experience. To know more about ‘dating’. But it was in vain—you couldn’t understand, all was for going with the flow, with your instinct.

And you instinct told you that you wanted to do more stuff with Max than you could believe…The librarian was on your mind all day and night, distracting you with from your studies and playing into your head—more naked than clothed.

It was driving you crazy and you didn’t want to anymore.

“AGH!” you groan all of a sudden, slapping your cheeks with your palms and straightening up, determined. “I’m not going to let him distract me again!” 

“Shhhh…” 

“Today, I’m going to study!” you duck your head and whisper a little, blushing furiously at your own excitement.

And you tried, lord can say that you did. For a while, it worked—but he kept appearing in your line of sight and there was no way you could miss him. You could recognize him anywhere and he was passing by on purpose, to see him, and those tights pants that accentuated everything that was right. How could you ignore him? There was no way.

However, you still persevered and, until the end of the day, you were tired and mentally drained. There was only a short amount you could take of Max teasing you like this—you just wanted to ravage him senseless—

“I-I should definitely go home,” you say to no one in particular, trying to stop you from thinking like this. Gathering your stuff, you know you need to hurry out of the stuffy room before you end up doing something you’d regret later. You leave the books for Max to put away later, when he closes the library, as a sort of  _mild_ punishment. It was his job anyway, even if you had the habit of being organized and put them back yourself. But not today. As you were putting on your coat, you noticed that again, there was no one around. Everybody left—the difference was that it wasn’t Sunday. ‘Weird’, you thought, as then you called for Max. No answer.

“Max!” you try again, feeling confident that there was no one around to make you shut up. You walk a bit around, your heels clicking against the wooden floor—and then you hear him distinctively yell back ‘I’m here!’ Deciding that it was rather rude of you not to salute him (and get a goodbye kiss in return) because he was trying so hard to make you go out; and you did nothing to please him. You were lucky that he was still hanging out around you.

Still, it felt like déjà-vu, even more so when you see where he was at. In the same space between the shelves where he first kissed you. He’s arranging some books, probably the ones you’ve misplaced last time, seemingly focused on his work for once. Max spots you, though, and smiles, arranging his glasses; a thing that makes you blush.

“Hey. Finished?” He’s sweet— _too sweet._ But you brushed it off and approach him. He eyes you suspiciously.

“Yeah. I wanted to say goodbye…” and you don’t hesitate (because that will only make you stop). You stand in front of him and, tiptoeing to reach him, you peck him nervously on the lips. Before he could react, you pull away and turn on your heels, ready to run away. But it was as if he expected this as he swiftly grabs you by the waist and turns you around, forcefully pinning you against the shelves. You had a sense of déjà-vu, as he pins your arms above your head and is staring at you with wild eyes.

“You shouldn’t have done this,” he growls lowly, like an animal and before you could ask what he meant, he attacks your lips. He mashes them savagely, biting with his teeth and pulling at your lips. You moan and weakly protest, whimpering and feeling your legs giving up underneath you. But he holds you and soon, you can’t resist him anymore. You let him kiss you, ravaging you, his glasses hitting your face—but you don’t care. It adds to the pleasure, to the taste of his sweet lips against yours, how he was breathing so heavily— _fuck._

“You don’t know how much I like you, [name]…” he takes a break to whisper to you, staring into your eyes with want. And you mewl, bucking your hips into his involuntarily, needy, as if you waited for this your whole life. And he can see that—and it makes him cockier than ever. “How many times have you imagined this, huh?” he chuckles, amusedly, releasing your arms and running them down your sides.

You shake your head as a ‘no’, but your body wasn’t lying—you  _wanted_ him. And you couldn’t help it. You pout, eyes half-lidded, as his hand reaches the hem of your very short skirt—and he clicks his tongue, as if reprimanding you.

“Such a naughty girl…Wearing such a short skirt for me…”

“I didn’t wear it for you!” you say, trying to be defying. But you failed, of course. His hands quickly get under the skirt, teasing the elastic band of your newly acquired panties. Especially for him.

“You did~” he teases further, stopping your further commentary by kissing you again. “Today we’re going to play, sweetie.”

And you take a deep breath, ready for the ride, your brain not working correctly. You felt to frustrated to stop now.  _Isn’t this what you really wanted?_  Yes, this was what you mostly wanted—your utmost fantasy. To fuck the hot librarian between the books you so loved. And you let him, you weren’t hiding anymore. It was what you felt doing the most.

So you let him slide the panties down your legs, his fingers already probing you. And he hums in agreement at how wet you were, slicking and rubbing against your clit in slow and teasing circles. You buck your hips into his fingers and he indulges you by shoving his fingers into you, pumping in and out.

“Oh—oh, no…” you moan at the forgotten feeling, his fingers deftly finding your sweet spot and encouraging him to do hit you more there. He listens as he kisses down your jaw line, then your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin, making sure to leave some hickeys for later. You don’t mind—you feel your body hot and sweating underneath that layer of clothes. You want some more, and you find yourself telling him this.

And he complies, feeling his smirk against your neck, and he takes his fingers out of you, much to your chagrin. “Don’t be impatient..” he tells you, but he’s the impatient one here, rushing to unbutton his jeans and soon, he lets out his member, throbbing with excitement. With incredible strength, he lifts you up by your thighs, pressing your back against the wooden shelves. You automatically wrap your legs around your waist, pulling him closer. “Are you ready?” Max suddenly asks you, stopping from kissing and looking at you all serious. Asking for permission, like a puppy that probably acted hasty and did something wrong.

He  _begged_ you to let him have you.

Still red in the face, you nod sheepishly, your pussy throbbing with want and need. “Yeah…Max, please, if I don’t do it now…”

And with one last kiss, he holds you better then pushes into you. You gasp into the air, closing your arms and allowing yourself a bit of time to adjust to his length. And he waits, panting against your shoulder, obviously overwhelmed by suddenly being inside of you. With a tug on his hair, you give him the approval to continue and he murmurs something intelligible before moving into you, rocking back and forth. Your bag dug into the shelves, but you didn’t mind. You got lost into the sensation, his nails scratching your thighs as his pace is a mess. He is mumbling something but you don’t understand what and you feel as if you reached a new whole.

But it’s a short ride because you’re both tired and the excitement of the situation has you both coming in unison. You cry out, shortly, and he moans loudly; but he doesn’t pull out immediately, preferring to kiss you softly on the lips once.

“That was great,” he compliments, panting heavily as well as you. “I’d love to do it again.”

“Yeah..” you feel a trickle of blood down your thighs, from where his nails scratched your skin, but you don’t mind. He lets you down, cups your cheeks and kisses you.

…

“What’s going on here?! I heard everything, you know!”

_Shit. Was that the owner?_


	7. I knew it all along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request with trans male fluff. Well, it didn’t turn out as fluffy as it should’ve been, but…Umm, I’m unsure if I did this correctly, I apologize if it’s inaccurate or something, I didn’t mean to offend anyone. But it’s a topic I’m not a master of and it’s the first time I’ve wrote something like this, so please be gentle… V__V

_Sniff, sniff._

You sniff the air and it smelled like popcorn. Delicious buttery popcorn that made your mouth water instantly; but you were too lazy to move and your lover, Max, didn’t seem to eager to get it either.

Still, you need to point it out. You wanted to eat something. “The popcorn’s ready, Max.” you announce your boyfriend, proceeding to disentangle yourself from his grip to let him move.

However, he growls into your skin, slightly nipping at the back of your neck, possessively. You just giggle, loving the way Max was acting sometimes—he just couldn’t get his paws off of you and you found that endearing. Showed how much he cared about you, despite the secret you kept away from him all this time you’ve been together. You were slightly frightened about your lover’s reaction, to be honest. You never told him that you were a trans male and you hardly doubted that he figured it out—so you dreaded the moment you’ll have to tell him.

 _What would his reaction be?_  Despite him telling he loved you, maybe he’ll change his mind once he finds out who you were. He was in the Cancer Crew, he was known for being a little insensitive, even if you knew he was not like that in real life. He might not like, might accidentally make a rude remark… He was sweet, adorable and the most caring boyfriend in the whole world—he couldn’t possibly let you go after this.  _Yeah, but there’s still a possibility._  Sometimes, you hated your pessimistic mind and the worries that nagged you—why couldn’t everything be simple? Why haven’t you told him right from the beginning? It would’ve been a lot easier for him to tell you he didn’t want you this way.

Now, after a certain period of time, the sentiments were profounder, the break-up a lot more hurtful than in the beginning—if Max rejects you now, you’d be devastated.

“I don’t wanna…” you hear him mutter and you laugh a bit dry, going back to reality. You were feeling anxious because today, you planned on telling him.  _Somehow_.

The problem was you didn’t know how to break it to him gently, without freaking him out. It has been on your mind for a long time now, especially after he tried several times to get more intimate with you. You’ve always pushed him away, coming up with excuses that ‘Ian and Joji could come up any second’, or ‘I’m not ready’ and other things that Max accepted. With a frown, of course (cause this boy was hella horny sometimes), but never went against your word. Always understood, even if he tried to convince you a bit afterwards—you were reluctant to let him see. You didn’t want him to know like this, you preferred telling him face to face, discuss if need be.

And you could see he was growing impatient—not entirely fed up with you (you hoped he wasn’t, anyway) but close to some point of sexual frustration. And you wanted to relieve him from that, to help him…Even if your relationship together wasn’t entirely based on sex. It was much more than that.

But you had to tell him, in the end; even if it might cost you the whole relationship.

“Come on, Max, I’m dying for some!” you whine, knowing that this was your best weapon in making him do what you wanted. Max was kinda obstinate sometimes, but he was under your charming spell and he could do nothing about it but listen blindly.

“All right…” he is still unmoving and you laugh, prying his hands away from you with force. When he  _reluctantly_ lets you go, you move away from his lap. “I’ll be right back.” He stands up, ruffles his hair a bit then leans over to peck you quickly on the lips. You wave at him, nestling comfortably on the couch, pulling the blanket over you more. You two were watching a movie—a rather uninteresting one, you soon found out. That’s why neither of you actually paid attention to it and kept on kissing each other, holding close—Max obviously wanting more out of you.

You hoped you could give him what he wanted today.

He comes back quick enough, already munching on the popcorn and stuffing his face. “Smthing intresting happn?” he asked with his mouth full, glancing at the screen uninterested.

“Nope,” you chuckle and pat the spot next to you. “C’mhere.”

Max eagerly hops to you, expecting to receive some kind of treat for bringing you food. Imagine his surprise as you just took the bowl, thanked him and started eating, eyes glued on the TV. You heard Max huff in indignation and he grabs you tight—boyfriend successfully riled up. You knew he wouldn’t suffer if you were ignoring him on purpose, it only made him want to get your attention more. Through  _every_ means possible.

“Is that how you want to play, huh?” He grabs you forcefully by the waist and you yelp in surprise at the action.

“I can’t hold the bowl—“ you start to protest but he elbows it out of your hand and you drop the whole load onto the carpet. You don’t even register his possessive grip on you as he pulls you into his lap. You’re dejectedly staring at the spilled popcorn, with sorrow and regret. “Look what you did to the popcorn…”

“Fuck the popcorn,” he growls into the skin at the base of your neck, scratching you with his teeth then biting down—certainly having your attention now. You gasped, completely melting against his hold. Dammit, the boy knew how to turn you into pudding with that naughty mouth of his; it worked every damn time.

“Oh, M-Max…” you moan, craning your neck up so he could get more access, pressing your back against his chest. His hands freely roam over your body tickling you and turning you on at the same time.

“Yeah, [name]?” he asks and, as on command, you turn your head to the side towards him—and he immediately captures your lips into a hungry kiss. He was desperate and on fire; you could feel it in the way he was kissing you. And you had a feeling that you knew where this was going. “Fuck, I need you so bad…” he doesn’t hesitate to say as his fingers trail under your shirt, his cold digits giving you goosebumps. He pushes you at the same time onto the couch, hovering above you with lust in his eyes, but continuing on kissing you.

“M-Max, I don’t think—“ you start, pulling at his arms in a weak attempt to push him off of you. Your heart’s beating fast—today was the day you have to tell him,  _for sure._ “Max, please—“ but he continues on kissing you, obviously fed up with your ‘shy’ attitude and determined to have what he wants.

“Come on, baby, just let me please you for once, I’m not that bad, I promise,” he purrs, leaving your mouth for a few seconds to pleadingly stare into your eyes. “When you get a taste of me, I—“

“Max,” you interrupt him, blushing madly. You thanked your lucky stars that it was dark all around you and he couldn’t see you. “Please, I need to talk to you first—“

“Why?!” he snaps all of a sudden, more hurt and confused by your rejection than angry. He stands up, pushing you onto the couch and straddling your waist. “Why do you always push me away?”

You take a deep breath, standing on your elbows to look at him seriously. He flinches, surprise by the sudden honesty he sees flashing across your expression. “I need to tell you something first.”

A sigh leaves his mouth “OK. What is it? You want to break up with me?”

“NO!” you say before he could get the wrong idea. And he’s relieved. 

You feel dizzy, your whole world is spinning, but the words come out easier than you expected. You thought you were going to be left speechless, your mind not processing. But you feel calmer than ever, trusting into the love Max had for you that he wasn’t going to kick you out of his apartment. “I’m…I’m a transsexual male, Max…that’s why I…” you stop after seeing him not reacting at all. In fact, he looks blankly at you—not even the desperation and hurt from before.  

He blinks—you couldn’t read any expression on his face. And that was frightening enough. You gulped dryly, feeling your heart lurching into your stomach, like a ball of goo. You felt sick, like vomiting—and you regretted opening your mouth. You should’ve told him from the beginning, maybe he’d have understood much more openly back then.

“Ma—“

“Is that it?” he’s oddly calm about it and it surprises you. You blink at him, mouth open wide.

“What.”

Max rolls his eyes “Did you think I didn’t figure it out?” he crosses his arms, pouting. “I’m not that stupid.”

The situation has you chuckling—and you feel relieved. “N-No, of-of course not, I just…” You can’t stop grinning widely. “I thought that you’d hate me for this…”

Max frowns in disbelief “No, I’d never do that!” He was rather offended by your supposition but, through all that, he could understanding where you were coming from. “Is this the only reason why…?”

You nod, feeling like laughing out of happiness. Max leans over a bit and flicks your forehead. “You’re stupid, [name].”

You giggle and respond “Y-yeah, I kinda am, aren’t I?” In a sudden burst of affection, you stretched your neck and captured his lips into a sweet kiss. Slow and passionate, and he responded with the same feeling, tamer a bit from before.

When you part, he feels the need to add “I won’t pressure you to do this anymore, ok? I will wait until you feel ready.”

“Hm…And what if I feel like I’m ready now?”

“Now you’re talking, then.”  


	8. why doesn't life have a resent button?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Max tries to impress your parents but he’s too nervous (especially because of your dad) and makes a bad impression. Hope it’s ok. :)

“Max! Maaaax, we need to go!” you call out for your lover, having finished with putting in bags the present you wanted to give your parents (which you bought with  _Max_  since he was too useless in buying them himself,  _on his own_ ). “MAX!!”

And he comes from around the corner,  _running_ , still trying to tie his tie—and his rush causes him to slip on the polished floor. He falls on his side, but is quick to get up, desperation written all over his face. Max curses as he comes in front of you—and reddens when he sees your amused expression. “WHAT!?” he barks, trying not to wince from the pain of falling and obviously so frustrated with his stupid tie. Normally, he wouldn’t wear it—but he had to make a good impression on your parents that he was the gentleman their offspring deserved. You eyed him up and down as he frowned some more about where his damn shoes were; he was always good at multitasking. And today, Max looked dashing in a costume, tailored to his body type—the slick back hair was a nice change, but it only made you think of messing it up later, when you two were alone.

You smile fondly, knowing that this was going to be a huge step in your relationship. You just hoped that Max wouldn’t fuck it up: he could be pretty calm when he wanted. But now, he looked like a mess—you didn’t want to worry too much about it because you were just as nervous, to be honest. Your parents, especially your father, was a bit difficult to deal with; you  _really_ hoped they’d behave…

“What are you smiling at like that?” Max reprimands you, successful in only making you smile wider,  _cheekily_. “Do you think this is funny?!”

 _This_  meant his tie, that he still didn’t do properly. You giggled and took a step towards him, grabbing his tie forcefully and pulling him closer to you. He gasps in surprise—“Woah”—but obviously liking it. He’s composed as he grabs you by the waist with other intentions. You focus on the tie, though, and you can’t afford to dilly-dally.

_And you knew very well he was just stalling for more time, prolonging the moment of the inevitable._

“There,” you finished your work with a strong tug. “You really should learn how to do it yourself, I can’t be all the time with you…”

“Whatever, you’re not going to leave my side.” Max grabs your face and leans in for a kiss, which you let him do. But when he starts going too long and far, you punch him not that hard in the stomach to make him stop. “OW! What’d you do that for?” he releases you, reluctantly, and you just pick up the bags with a wide smile.

“Time to go, Max.”

He can only grumble something you don’t hear under his breath as you’re out the door already—no use in wasting more time. And you know this was the only way to make him move. As you both entered the taxi, you prayed that this was not going to turn into a disaster.

* * *

“Why are you so nervous, Maxie?” you want to laugh at him, but it comes out as dry and not amused— _the nervousness got to you too after seeing him so nervous in the first place._ You try to hit his shoulder, but he flinches in surprise, as if he was not paying attention.

You were both standing in front of the door of your parent’s house,  _frozen._ Staring blankly at the wooden framework and gaining the courage to ring the doorbell. You tasked Max to do that, but his index finger has been hovering over the button for about 10 minutes now.

“I never knew you were a chicken, ha ha…” Normally, your  _rude_ jokes would get a reaction from him (usually yelling, much to your amusement), but he only turns his head towards you, with a terrified expression. And you knew it was your job to make him feel normal again. “Come on, Max, they’re just my parents!”

“ _Just_ your parents?! [name], I don’t think you know how serious this is!”

You sigh—what got him so scared? “They’re gonna like you anyway, no need to be so serious…”

“You don’t understand! Last time I went to meet some parents of an ex, the dad simply didn’t like my face and almost kicked me out! It didn’t help that he was a boxer too…” You can’t help but laugh, a thing which offended your lover. “I’m being serious, [name], this is no joke!”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry about this.” You take his hand and squeeze it. “But my dad’s no boxer, he’s a softie inside that tough exterior. And my mother…well, she’s special, in a way.”

“He still might not like me…” you just tiptoe and kiss him to make him stop bitching—right when you heard a click and the door started to open. Taken by surprise, you both part away, like two children that got caught in the act.

“Honeey, thought I heard your voice!!” your mother’s shrill voice grates your ears and you jump away from Max to look at your mother’s sweet smile. As if she’s glad you finally brought a boy home. She’s not even looking at you, she’s eyeing Max,  _analysing him_ , who’s too shy and awkward to look her in the eye. He’s glancing away, at his feet, embarrassed by having being caught kissing you. ‘Bad move…’ you gulp, and then try to distract your mother.

“Mother!” you yell, wrapping your arms around her in a hug. She hugs back tightly. “It’s so nice to see you!”

She releases you to finally look you over, holding you at arms’ length. “Likewise!” she smiles. “Look at you, all grown-up. I’m glad to have you here, you and…” she trails off, obviously eager to know who your  _‘friend’_  was.

“Oh, umm, yeah…” you go to Max’s side, grab his arm and pull him in front of his mother. He walks stiffly, trying hard not to trip—thankfully, he doesn’t. “This is my boyfriend, Max, the one that I’ve told you about!”

“How lovely!” your mother coos, pleased. “It’s nice to meet you, Max.”

You give Max a push from behind, praying that he’ll give her the gift he brought—and he does. “Nice to know you, madam,” he says soothingly, even if he was still stiff and awkward. ‘Madam’, you want to laugh. ‘He learnt that from Julian.’ Max continues after seeing your mother’s eyes lighten up in glee, shoving the present in her face. “Here, this is for you, as a gift of… _wellness._ ”

“Oooo, thank you so much, dear!!” your mother doesn’t take the gift—she takes Max as a whole, hugging him. “You seem like such a nice boy!” He doesn’t know how to react so he just…stands there.

“M-Mom, I think that’s enough, I think you’re suffocating him…” you laugh, but gratefully, your mother releases him and focuses on you. “Shall we get inside? I wanna see dad.”

Your mother quickly agrees to that and soon, all three of you are inside the house, making yourselves comfortable. You’re the first inside the living room while your mother is chatting up with Max. You’re just eager to see your father and you find him on the couch. Yelling ‘Daddy!’, you rush to your father and hug him tight.

“Hey there, princess.” He smiles back at you, with fondness.

Your little moment is interrupted by the coming of the other two and you both look in that direction. Your mother’s totally clutches onto Max’s arm—and your father’s not liking it, judging by the narrowing of his eyes. He’s immediately getting up, walking towards Max with ferocity—and Max cowers in fear, squeaking out and releasing your mother. You’re quick to follow in case things go worse—but your father stops in time, in front of Max.

“Who’re you?”

“Dad, this is my—“

“I wasn’t talking to you, honey. What are you, his spokesman? Can’t he say his name on his own?” Your father glares dangerously at Max, who doesn’t know what to do. “Come on, son. Tell me your name and what are you doing here.”

‘This is your trial, Max.” You put your hands together and prayed to your guardian angel that Max had the guts to confront your father—who  _obviously_ just wanted to test your lover. He bravely held his ground, but he couldn’t help but look up at your father since he was taller. He was shivering, that was plain to see. Your mother came to your side, a bit worried that this might escalate into something else.

“Is he a mute—“

“M-M-M-Max!” he suddenly says, shoving his hand in front of your father for him to shake. “I’m M-Max, your daughter’s boy-boyfriend.” ‘At least he said it,’ you thought, holding your breath in fear but glad he managed to get this far.

“ _Boyfriend?_ ” your father glances at you and you can’t help but glare at him as a warning to not cause a scene. You knew he was exigent when it came to your lovers and you were old enough for him not to start some shit over your choice. You loved Max no matter what your parents said about him—they had no right to complain as you were old enough to decide for yourself. And your father could see that determination written all over your visage—that’s why he sighed and took Max’s extended hand. Still, judging by the hint of pain (that he tried to hold back) flashing across Max’s face, must’ve been a very tight grip. “I see. Nice to meet you,  _M-M-Max._ ”

Max awkwardly laughed, feeling his knees giving in at the fierce expression your father gave him. But then he remembered something and quickly searched through the bag. ‘Nice, Max. The gift!’ Which was a very expensive wine bottle that he accidentally just dropped it on the floor, at his feet. And successfully staining the  _white_ carpet and dad’s shoes. You all stared in horror at the sight, Max’s cry mute on his lips but obviously his blood left his cheeks and he was livid. Your mind was blocked, too shocked to comprehend the gravity of the situation. But you could feel your dad’s anger next to you and you knew you had to do something.

“Oh my, the carpet!” your mother was the first to recover and grabbed your father’s raised arm before he could do some damage. “Come, honey, I’m sure it’s just an accident.” Your father can say nothing and Max’s brain was malfunctioning, lips trembling with sorry but too blank to actually form words.

“Mother, I’ll help you!” you cry out, shaking your head and going by Max’s side to wake him up.

“No, no, dear,” your mother responded, pushing your father away. “I’ll take care of it, you—“ she glanced at Max and waved a hand “—make sure he…” ‘Stays out of the way, huh?’ you sighed internally, taking Max’s hand firmly. Even if mother didn’t say the words, she still looked slightly displeased by your lover’s slip-up. “Wait for us at the table, ok?”

You can only nod as you dragged Max in the dining room, defeated by this encounter. It hasn’t even been 10 minutes and it was already a disaster. And Max wasn’t saying anything as you put him in the chair next to you. You stayed there, hands interlaced and waiting for your parents to come—you heard them bickering somewhere in the house, probably about your lover. You hated hearing them fight, especially over your boyfriend’s mistake, but you hoped they had in their heart to forgive him. This was a growing disaster and maybe you should’ve never brought him home. But he was an important part of your life you weren’t going to give up easily on him.

“Oh Max…” you sigh, resting your head on his shoulder—and you feel him relax, finally reacting to your touch and coming back to his senses.  

He took a deep breath, his whole body rising in defeat, and simply stated “I’m kinda screwed, aren’t I?”

“Yup,” you confirmed. And somehow, you were relieved. You didn’t care anymore—Max wasn’t a bad boy, you knew that and your parents might not think so, but he made you happy. And it was normal— _this_  was normal and there was nothing you could do about it. So there was such a serene calmness settling into you.

 _This can only go from bad to worse_. Like a roller-coaster.

“This is bad, no?” Max continued, nervously playing with your fingers.

You shrug “Kinda, yeah.”

“Well, it was nice knowing ya.”

“You’re not going to die, stupid. Just behave at dinner and we’ll be fine.”

“…Alright.”

* * *

“Can you pass me the salt,  _vixen_?” Max asks you out of the blue, mouth stuffed with the delicious food your mother made. It was an awkward dinner, to say the least, all of you eating in silence. Only you and your mother talked, but it was forced and strangled by the deadly atmosphere between Max and your dad. Your father kept glaring at your lover, who did his best not to shit his pants and avoided his gaze. He tried to ease the tension by cracking very idiotic jokes that weren’t funny  _at all_. Max was bad at it—he was only comfortable in joking when Joji or Ian were around. But they weren’t here so…

 _And he laughed way too loudly, way too forced_ …It was only annoying your father more so, with a swift kick to his leg, you made him shut up. So it has been utter silence until now, interrupted by Max’s loud munching and sometimes his compliments directed to your mother. Just that he forgot his manners—he acted as if you were at home and eating together, which always resulted in a big mess. And it was already too late to tell him to tone it down….There was nothing he could do to impress your parents anymore.

“Yes,  _master_.” You answer automatically, forgetting for a second that you were not at home and not realizing what has Max said. Not until you hear a fork clattering on top of a plate loudly you snap back to reality. With the salt in your hand almost reaching Max, you both look at your parent’s faces. And they’re staring at you two with mouths open, your mother flushing red from shame. You scrunch your face, confused. “What’s wrong with you two?”

“ _Vixen?!_ ” Your fathers spits out and it hits you. You get red in the face then look at Max, who’s equally shocked at his slip-up.

_‘Fuck. That’s how we call each other in bed.’_

“Oh my…” your mother gasps and you’re at a loss of what to say to excuse yourself. You feel Max’s hand on yours as he suddenly starts laughing way louder than he ever did—obviously trying to cover the mistake by deeming it a joke. However, he forgot one essential thing: he still had food in his mouth. And so, as he opened his mouth, the remains of food landed on your father’s face, who was sitting in front of Max at the table.

This time, you were mentally prepared. Before your father cold lunge at him, you stood up, said thank you for the meal and took Max by the arm, dragging him out of there. “We need to go, sorry mom and dad,” you said quickly, urging Max to just put on his shoes already. He listens and he’s the first to finish. Your mother’s the only one who follows you two to say goodbye, but she’s obviously more worried about her husband than you. You mutter a big ‘sorry’, knowing you’ll have to do a lot to make it up to them—and that wasn’t going to happen soon. Max almost begs on his knees for an apology, but he finds his words to say sorry that he ruined everything—he was just nervous. Your mother simply smiles nervously, and you’re out the door before you can face your father’s wrath.

As you’re waiting for the taxi, hand in hand, a little far away from your parent’s home, you simply state “Well, that was a fiasco…”

“I’m so sorry, [name], I didn’t mean to, I fuck up everything really bad, I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore…”

You sigh, grabbing his face to make him look at you “I don’t care that much. Leave them a bit and they’ll forget. Well, maybe not my dad—“

_“Helpful.”_

“—but I’m not going to give my happiness for them.” You smile. He smiles back.

“I promise I’ll make them like me. I’ll be better at this.” He puts an arm around you, hugging you sideways, and you encircled his waist.  

“It’s ok, Maxie,” you respond, closing your eyes and letting the coldness of the night chill your body. “I still got you.”


	9. forever and ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested a domestic Max fic, so here it is. Hope it’s alright cause it’s kinda cheesy and sappy, it’s the only thing my imagination could create. Sorry ‘bout that. I was listening to ‘Misha Mishenko - Vor I mig’ while writing this, so maybe it’ll add to the atmosphere of the story if you listen to it while reading? ^__^’

_You remember everything. Every silly little moment that happened between the two of you: the good stuff and the bad stuff, the tears and the shouting, the reconciliation and the love making that sparks between the two of you. Everything that brought up to today, when you could finally say ‘Yes’ to the love of your life and have him as your husband. In that moment, all time seemed to have slowed down: it was only the two of you in that chapel, holding hands and declaring undying love to one another. All of your encounters passed through your mind, from your first meeting, to the point where you knew you have fallen in love with Max Stanley. From your first kiss, to the awkward and cute methods of flirting—to the romantic and the more naughty moments._

_Everything that you didn’t want to change. You felt him lightly squeezing your hand and stared at him—he had tears in his eyes as he smiled so fondly at you… He was probably thinking the same, the steps which you’ve all passed through, together. And your heart skips a beat, just like it does every once in a while when you remember how much you love Max. You smile, wanting to just kiss him and so ready to spend the rest of your life with him._

_“Don’t cry, my dear,” he says, leaning over to you a bit. “Things are going to be fine.”_

_“I know…” and just when he’s about to seal the deal—_

You return back to reality. You open your eyes, breathing heavily, but with a fond smile on your face. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, not sure why—was it from happiness or sadness that it may not possibly ever happen?  _No._ This ‘make-belief’ marriage that you recalled in your dream… You turn your head to the side, where your husband should’ve been—but his side is empty and cold, like he has never been there to begin with.  _But his form still lingers, his smell…_ You start to panic, feeling how your stomach tossed and turned in anxiety.  _Where was he? Your husband…_ You don’t wait anymore—you’re up and about in a second, pushing off the covers and desperate to find him. Because you knew, in your mind, that it hasn’t been just a dream and it has been real at some point. 

You realize you’re in his shirt, barely covering your body—just the way you liked it. You stop in front of the bedroom door to sniff it, remembering how he smelled like. Sweet, like his favourite deserts, but still manly enough to arouse you. Just the way you like it, just the way you’re forever going to remember. You giggle, eager to meet him in person. You want to make sure this was not just a very sweet dream and that your reality matched with your innermost dreams. 

_Something seemed wrong with you today, but maybe it was just you…_

You open the door, almost flying down the stairs, enticed by the smell of an omelette.  _Your favourite dish._ Max always knew how to make your mornings better, knew what you liked—he knew how to treat you right. Your bare feet don’t make a sound as you’re rushing towards the kitchen; you’re almost out of breath as you arrive in the doorway, stopping there to admire the view.

_Max’s standing in front of the oven, right in front of a large window. The sun rays fall onto his figure, illuminating him in the most pleasant of ways. He’s like an angel, his green eyes seeming lighter than ever as he’s so focused on stirring in the fry pan. A pout adorns those plump lips of his, his morning unshaved beard just asking to be rubbed onto your skin. You loved the sensation it caused you—the raspy feeling on you made your body tingle pleasantly. He was naked from the waist up, his large pants loosely tied around his torso—the marks of your late-night love making were still visible on his broad back. You smiled at that, barely containing your excitement._

You just want to hug him, give him all the love and care he needs and deserve. You could watch him for hours—but you feel pity for the steaming coffee mugs sitting on the table. You don’t want them to get cold—coffee was your vitae. ‘Maybe I should’ve just stayed in bed and wait for him to wake me up.’ He could come up with the most innovative ways to do that, with kisses, breakfast in bed; sometimes, he’d even joke around and splash a bucket of water on top of your head. He will laugh as he’s running from your wrath; he never tried that again after you promised no sex for a short period of time. You knew him too well, knew his weaknesses—and he knew yours.

So you settle for greeting him. “Hello, handsome.”

He almost drops the omelette on the floor from the surprise—you can only chuckle amusedly at his shocked expression that quickly turns into a large smile. “Hey, beautiful, you woke up!” He wants to rush to you and hug you, but breakfast was not ready yet, so he can only pout in need, like a puppy. You chuckle once more and you walk towards him. Hand on his arm, you tiptoe to kiss him chastely on the cheek, lingering there a bit more than you should’ve. Just to make him want more.

And he does want more—Max was needy. He grumbles something under his breath and you giggle. You wrap your arms around his torso and he turns his head to meet your lips head on. You stay there, kissing passionately, but still lazy enough—it was, after all, still so early in the morning. You ruffle his hair, suddenly breaking off the kiss. And he pouts more, knowing he’d want more than just such a brief kiss.

But you laugh “The omelette’s burning.”

Max curses loudly, obviously not pleased with the outcome of his meal. He wanted to be perfect for you, to give you only the best. And burning your food was not acceptable! You leave him be and go sit at the table, in your usual chair, in your usual way: knees to your chest. You take your favourite cup filled with coffee and blow on it to cool it off. When you take the first sip, that’s when Max finishes with breakfast—he comes to the table, putting two plates on it: one in front of you, and the bigger portion of omelettes on his side.

“Hey!” you laugh, putting the warm mug down. “It’s not fair!”

“What?” Max raises an eyebrow at you as he sits down on the other side of the table. “You said you didn’t like to eat much in the morning.”

“What if I have cravings, hmmm?” you muse, picking up the fork and ‘threatening’ him with it.

Max snorts “What are you, pregnant?” Instead of answering, you lean over the table and try to destroy his omelette. “HEY!” he’s quick to react, though, and before you could actually do some damage and steal a bite, he has the plate up in the air, out of your reach. He playfully glares at you as you can’t contain your smile. “MY food!”

“Alright, alright.” You throw your hands up in surrender and sit back down. “Your food.”

Max glances at you one more time, wary of your intentions—but you aren’t planning anything anymore. You shrug at him and pretend to eat your omelette; and he soon follows your example, putting the plate down and starting to scarf his food down. He was always such a messy eater—and he ate a lot, you had to admit. Especially sweets, those were his favourites and  _coincidentally_ , your expertise. Still, that didn’t make him less lovable: he was still everything you wanted and you learnt to love every side of him. And you stopped for countless long seconds to look at him—to just admire his whole essence and take him in.

_He was so beautiful._

“What?” he questions you after feeling your intense stare, lifting up his head to meet your passionate gaze.

“What, what?” you repeat, resting your chin in your palm.

“What’s with that stupid grin?” he doesn’t dislike it—and your smile is contagious.

“I’m just admiring you, Max.”

Max is taken aback a bit and he blushes, feeling antsy from seeing you so into him. Your feelings towards one another were strong, but he was always surprised to see himself being loved so. Max never knew how to return it, but you didn’t seem to ask for it. But he tried, he really did. He wanted to show you the world just like you showed him.

So he’s smiling brightly. “Really? I’m flattered.”

“Yeah…” you sigh dreamily. “I’m glad you’re still here with me, after all this time…” You don’t want to grow nostalgic, but in this morning, you’re feeling like telling him all this.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. I’m just saying.”

“Weirdo…” he mutters, glancing away, embarrassed.

You giggle some more at that reaction and you just want to jump over the table and kiss him. “You know I love you, Max.”

And his heart melts. He smiles. “I love you too, [name] Stanley.”

“I’m glad…” And then you stay in silence, just looking at one another like two in love school kids that just discovered the mentioned sentiment. And you probably did—it’s always going to be this way. He suddenly extends his arm towards you on the table, taking your hand in his and holding it tight. Playing with your fingers lovingly, he says “I love watching you.”

“Me too…”

And there’s nothing more than you can say. You just enjoy each other’s warmth and presence—until he suddenly remembers something, disrupting the moment just like he always did. “Are we going to finish painting the living room today?” His expression told you that he didn’t quite had the patience to do it.

So you have to answer “How about we just sit on the porch like an old couple and sleep?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”


	10. the fool that I am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request, song-fic based on ‘Awkward’ by FIDLAR. ^_^

_Fuck._

That was the only thing he could think, first thing in the morning. No ‘Oh, it’s going to be a good day today’ or some gay shit like that. No—he knew he was fucked. He could feel it in the massive headache he sported, in the fact that he couldn’t open his left eye and that his nose hurt like hell. He ached all over his body, it felt numb, as if tiny bruises were scattered all over it; which was undoubtedly the case. He couldn’t fool himself into thinking that he didn’t get in a fight. Not when  _you_ were involved. He surely did for your safety.

That’s why he felt like shit.

“Fuuuuuccck, my head…” he groans loudly, the only way Max knew how and stands up. He’s… _somewhere_ , that’s for sure _._  Probably still at the dude’s house, the one who held the party yesterday. After all, other people were still here, lying around the floor,  _passed out_. At least he found out a place on the couch. Then again, it was probably your lover who managed to knock him out and he was lucky enough to pass out on it. Still, no one else was moving, it was finally silence—but there was a huuuuuge mess. The Australian teenager was glad that this wasn’t his house; it’d be a pain in the ass to clean all of this up. “That doesn’t matter right now, fucktard,” he scolds himself, trying to keep his mind set on a straight path. He didn’t want to think about anything else but  _you_. He glances around, green eyes searching: but of course, he doesn’t find any sign of your presence. No one was awake—and it was surely time for him to go home. His parents must be worried sick.

And then he remembers he lost his phone.

“Fucking shit cunt of a day…” he growls, annoyed at himself for being so careless. He is not even aware of his massive hangover or the sick feeling in his stomach; his heartbreak hurts more than any injury on his body.

_He just never realized how much of a loser he was until yesterday…_

Max stands up, wobbles a bit on his feet and steadies himself. His head stands to explode and he feels a strange liquid coming out of his nose. He wipes it off with the back of his hand and he sees blood. His nose is cracked, surely. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, ignoring it—a little blood never killed anyone. He spits on the ground, barely missing someone’s face, and walks outside, stumbling. But the fresh air helps him a lot, clears his mind. The sight of the yard—a disaster—didn’t help to improve his mood. However, that was his own fault.

He sits down on the porch, searches his pockets for his packet of cigarettes. He doesn’t find it and he’s about to lose it, but his fingers feel something else. One single cigarette—he thanks to all his guardian angels and lights it up. After taking one blessed drag out of it, feeling how the smoke curls inside his body and relaxes him, he stares into nothingness and remembers…

The more he does, the more embarrassed he gets…

**_Well every time you come on over I just want to listen_ **

**_I know you got some issues and I know that you just miss him_ **

**_I got a fever just to see you feeling like a sucker_ **

**_And didn’t know I’m really good at making you feel awkward._ **

He had no idea how long he has been feeling ‘love’ towards you—his friend, his  _best_ friend and the one he was crushing on shamelessly. He couldn’t control himself, he was head over heels, so in love with you that he almost felt like dying for you. Your sweet voice— _and oh lord, that laughter of yours whenever he said something stupidly funny—_ the way you looked so attractive in whatever outfit you wore, even if it meant you just being in some silly pyjamas. He loved everything about you—and he knew that it wasn’t just a crush. It was more than that. He felt as if you were his soul mate, the only person he could ever be with. Max knew how much he thought about you, how in love he was—he saw it in himself, whenever he looked into a mirror, he saw how much… _how disgustingly love-struck he was and how much he ached…_

He liked you. And he so wanted to tell you that—but there was one slight problem…

_Your own crush. Which wasn’t him._

_“I like someone…”  
_

When you first told him, he was unsure how to react: he only stared at you with his mouth open, his brain not comprehending.  _You_ had a crush on  _someone else?!_ That was unacceptable! He always believed that you liked him from the way you touched him, the familiar way in which you leaned against him and the fact that you never shied away from spending time with him,  _at his own home._ You treated him… _differently._ And he knew that you were, to some extent, attracted to him.

You had to…no?

Seems like he was wrong. That night, he felt so angry that he wanted to go and kill the bastard who dared captured your heart. He wanted to yell at you, that he was better than any you could encounter; but something inside him stopped him from doing that. He only forced a smile and asked you for details. Which you gladly gave him, making him incredibly jealous. He couldn’t control himself, he wanted to know everything—and he does. He  _knows_ exactly who your crush was…

And he consoled himself with the fact that your crush didn’t seem to be that interested in you. He wanted to fight for you, he really did. Had half in mind to even confess to you…but you were  _so darn in love_ with that person that he didn’t have the heart to ruin the friendship he had for you just because he wanted you for himself.

So he stayed and suffered and listened—got wild, wasted himself some more. And hoped you’d never make your crush like you back…

**_I’m at a party, met her boyfriend, I can barely see_ **

**_And every time I talk to you, no, I can never breathe_ **

**_I’m getting drunker, I’m a bummer, I should just call her_ **

**_And I didn’t know I’m really good at making you feel awkward_ **

“What.” He feels his soul leaving his body the moment he sees you holding hands with the one he believed didn’t like you. “What’s this?” he asks you as you’re smiling so brightly, like he’s never seen you before.  _‘You don’t smile like this for me.’_ And his heart shatters the moment he realizes he never had a single chance in the first place. He doesn’t even hear what you’re telling him, obviously the fact that the guy next to you was  _your_ boyfriend, and not him. He can only feel defeat—not even rage…

_He had it coming._

“I hope you’re happy,” he tells you and you look up at your boyfriend with so much fondness that it made him sick. He didn’t want to see that on you if it’s not towards him—he wanted to get away…

 _And to think that he called you to this party with the thought of finally confessing…_ He had reached a boiling point, where he just wanted you for himself so…He was nervous, that was sure, but he felt that this was the moment! The only moment he felt that he could do it…

He had been so damn wrong.

So he drank and drank and drank, beer after beer, until he was pissed drunk. So drunk that he couldn’t think straight and his vision was blurry, he was tipsy—and he had the courage of a lion.

**_Didn’t know I’m really good at making you feel awkward._ **

He finally spotted you in the crowd, sitting in the lap of your new lover—looking so darn lovey-dovey. But that didn’t stop him from stomping towards you, swaying from side to side. He wanted to confess to you, he was still set on that…

“Hey, [name]…” he laughed drunkenly, sitting next to the two on the couch, very close to your face. “What’ca doing?”

“I’m fine… _Max._ ” Obviously his presence was making you uncomfortable, but he was too drunk to notice that. So he got more impertinent, touched your leg more often than not, going up your thigh—wanting more than you asked for. You tried to push him away, try not to look into his eyes that showed a kind of obsession with you—he tried even to kiss you. And he was making everything so awkward without him realizing.

“Max, please, can you leave us a bit?” you tried, asking your lover for help. Who was gradually getting mad, although, for the sake of the fondness you had for Max, you tried to stop him from kicking his ass.

“I can’t, [name]…” Max sighed, suddenly taking your hand into his. You stop, staring at his sudden seriousness—but fearing it at the same time. “I just want to tell you that…” He hiccupped, successful in stopping himself from saying something stupid.

But your lover had had enough. “Listen, buddy, can you leave us alone?”

Max wasn’t listening: he was too focused on your rosy lips. He wanted to kiss you—and before anyone knew it, his mouth was upon yours, sloppily kissing you. And leaving more saliva into your lips than he ever planned on.

“FUCKER!” the loud yell is the thing that make you wake up to push Max away. He’s grinning stupidly, ignoring the rage your lover felt towards him.

“Did you like it, [name]?” Max laughs as you stand up, wiping at your mouth. “I’ve always wanted to tell you that—“ he reaches towards you, but you slap his hand away, much to his confusion. “[name]?”

“You better stay away from me!” you yell at him, confused and heartbroken at Max’s actions, feeling tears coming in the corner of your eyes. You’re trembling in fear, you want to get away from Max, the one who you believed was your friend. You just didn’t realize Max had these desires for you—but why now? Why did he wanted to ruin the newly relationship you just formed? “I don’t want to see you again!”

And you run, leaving him hurt. “But why?!”

“I’ll tell you why.” Your lover, obviously displeased with Max’s pushy attitude, stands in front of him, menacing. “You listen to her and leave her alone.”

**_I got no job, I got no money, I got no self esteem_ **

**_I’ll take a Xanax every morning for anxiety_ **

**_I’ll take a beer and take another, then I’m gonna call her_ **

**_I’ll probably end up fucking up and make it super awkward._ **

Max takes the challenge—he’s feeling brave, so he stands up to match your lover’s height. He puffs out his chest and glares with so much hate at the other guy, that he actually believed he was being intimidating. “Who’re you, you cocksucker? You think I’m scared of you, cunt?”

“Watch your mouth—“

“Fuck off and leave [name] alone, she’s mine!!”

And sadly, Max is the one that throws the first punch.

**_I’ll probably end up fucking up and make it super awkward_ **

Through loud cheers, the two fight; but Max has no chance. He’s too drunk to think and coordinate his body and he ends up getting punched more often than he dodges them. He doesn’t feel—and he feels satisfied when he manages to punch the shit out of your lover when he catches him. But the alcohol in his system is the thing that makes him lose.

“This is for [name]!” and with that one punch, Max falls asleep on the couch, in the same position he found himself in the morning.

**_I’ll probably end up fucking up and make it super awkward…_ **

Max growls, feeling stupid about what he has done—he ruined everything just because he has drunk too much. He shouldn’t have, but he has been so damn depressed. He rubs his temples, groaning and cursing to himself for his selfishness. Your friendship was all that he had with your and now he fucked up everything…

He crushes the cigarette on the ground in anger. Then brightens up, as if there was still hope. Maybe he could still salvage something if he apologized. He was determined to at least make it up to you—

He touches his cheek and feels something there. A band-aid? For a cut, maybe? How did that happen?

_And the lost memory comes vividly inside his head._

Your smell, your hair brushing against his face, tickling him. He groans, half-awake and half into dream land. He opens his healthy eye and he can see only your lips…But he can’t answer, his brain can’t comprehend.

“I didn’t know, Max…” your breath on his cheek, your tears staining his eyelids. “I’m sorry, but it’s too…”

He sighs. “Too late, huh?” So maybe, there was a chance. And suddenly, his heart is soaring with hope, that one gentle action giving him the necessary hope to move on and continue. To wait that maybe—just maybe—he could finally have you in the end.

And he smiles.


	11. Drama Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request in which Max catches a cold. (it’s more of a crack fic lol)

“MAX!”

The Australian boy who happens to be your lover completely ignores you, preferring to collect the trash out of his backyard. Another day filming ending up badly: well, the boys were pleased with the video, but of course that they had made a mess out of the whole garden. You rolled your eyes at your lover’s attitude, leaning against the doorway and watching him, annoyed, with your arms crossed.

“Max, what the fuck are you doing?” you asked, hoping that he’ll listen to you.

“Cleaning, what does it look like?” he answers, too busy to grumble something about the mess that  _he_  created in the first place. He was drunk, that was sure—and it was his idea to throw fucking eggs and rotten fruits at him. Why he was complaining, it was just a Max thing. You weren’t going to help him; not because you were a pristine human being (although touching that filth wasn’t appealing at all), but because you were tired of doing it. It has happened so many times that you got sick of it and well, it was HIS mess in the first place. You had other problems to solve. Ok, sometimes you did help him, but today was not the day! Today, you were tired of cleaning!

“In  _that_?”

Max finally stands up and looks at you. “In what?”

“In your boxers, wet as hell and in this fucking cold?” You shivered as you just said this, but it didn’t seem to affect Max at all. “At least put on some clothes or take a shower, dry your freaking hair…You’re going to catch a cold otherwise.”

Your ‘mom’ attitude sometimes pissed Max off—and this was the case right now. He glared at you, running a hand through his wet hair, then spat something he had in his mouth on the ground. “Pfft, as if! I’ve never caught a cold in my life!” He turned around, sniffling. “And it’s warm, you’re the only one feeling cold here.” 

You raised an eyebrow at his defiant attitude and decided to leave it like that. He’s going to get what’s coming to him later. “You’re lying, but whatever. Suit yourself.”

“THANKS!”

“Don’t come crying to me later!” you say as an ultimatum, then shake your head as you’re going back inside, leaving him to it. He’s  _surely_ going to regret this later—and it was no use for him to be so obstinate about it. But the only way he can actually understand is by learning it the hard way.

_You couldn’t wait._

* * *

It was the next day; and it has been quiet until now since you ignored Max all day long. He ignored you too, as if it was your fucking fault that he had to clean shit up. You were shuffling through the channels on the TV, bored, sitting on the couch and feeling sleepy as fuck. ‘But this is normal’ you absent-mindedly think; so you didn’t mind Max’s attitude that much anymore. He’ll be the one asking for your help later on—

“[NAMEEEEEEEEE]!!!” you instantly jump out of you comfortable position, dropping the remote on the ground and rushing up the stairs at top speed, towards where Max’s cry came from. You had no idea what came over him to ask for you like this—but you think that it must be something  _real_ bad. You didn’t believe that it was something that Max was afraid of; and he lived in freaking Australia, you were sure he wasn’t afraid of some random ‘nopes’.

You go inside your shared bedroom, slamming the door onto the wall and frantically looking around for your boyfriend. “MAX! WHAT HAPP—“ you stopped in your tracks, staring at a red faced Max. He was breathing heavily, hand on his heart—but you didn’t believe him for one second that it was something that bad. He was looking rather panicked, hair tousled all over and sweating a whole lot. In an instant, you knew what was going on with him.

“What’s happening to me, [name]?!” he asked, trying hard to look manly despite being scared shitless.

You sigh and approach him, as if he was a big baby. “Let me check.”

Max is confused by your actions, especially when you put your palm against his forehead. You click your tongue, worried. “AM I GOING TO DIE, [name]?!” He yells into your ear and you’re seconds away from slapping his face for his ignorance.

“No. You just have a fever.”

“OH….” He exclaimed weakly, his knees giving in and falling at your feet. Feebly, he wrapped his arms around your legs, nuzzling his head against them. “Then, [name], please…forgive me for my sins and if I ever made you mad…”

“Max,” you sigh, feeling like laughing at his dramatic speech.

But he went on “Take care of my channel, alright? Tell my fans I love them.”

“Max—“

“Send my love to Ian and George. And of course, remember that I’ll forever love you, my dear [name]…” He looked up at you with puppy eyes, sniffing heavily as his nose was starting to run.

“M—“

“ALAS!” he suddenly dropped down onto his back, hand on his forehead and wearing the most pained expression you’ve ever seen on him. As if he really believed he was dying. “GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD!” And with that one sentence, he gave out his ‘last breath’.

“Max.” You accentuated his name, annoyed. You were almost compelled to kick him in the nuts but you only resorted to putting your foot against his junk, rubbing slightly (and making sure you were not crushing him). He immediately reacted, squirming under your touch.

“Ah, not there, [name], please!” he moaned, grabbing your ankle and making you stop; then gulped when he saw your ‘angered mother’ face. “Um…?”

“I thought I told you yesterday to dry the fuck up.” He yelped, scared. “Now look at you: you got a cold and you’re acting as if it’s the end of the world.”

“But I’ll really die! I feel like shit!” he sniffed again, panting. “I’m so weak, my whole body hurts…”

“That’s because you have a fever, not because of some exotic illness!” You bend, hand extended towards him. “Come on, get up.” He begrudgingly accepted your hand and you pulled him up. He wobbled a bit, dizzy, and he fell into your arms. Sighing, you guided him towards the bed, making him sit down. He listened to you without any complaint as you covered him with the fluffiest of blankets. “Stay here and DON’T move, got it?” Quickly, you shuffled to the bathroom to get the thermometer—you were pleasantly surprised to see him still in the same position, glad that he was FINALLY listening to you. “Open,” you instructed as you sat down on the side of the bed next to his limp body.

“Aaah!” he said rather playfully and you just shoved that thing into his mouth.

“This is no time to play around, Max.”

He moaned in dismay, but said nothing as you waited for the result. Meanwhile, you gently caressed the side of his face, wiping the sweat on his forehead and ruffling his damp locks. You were worried, of course you were. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Max having a cold so this was a first. You hoped it wasn’t going to turn into anything serious—he was just overreacting in his symptoms because when you checked his temperature, it was high, but normal still.

“Is it bad, doctor?” Max inquired, serious as fuck. His expression only had the effect to amuse you terribly.

“Not really, you’ll pull it through,” you chuckled.

He let out a deep breath of relief. “Thank god…”

“Still, it’s your fault for ending this way. I have to go buy some meds AND ingredients for a soup.” You ran a hand through your locks, frustrated. “I’ve got so many things to do now…” you mumble to yourself, deep in thought.

A cold hand creeps onto your arm and you shiver, staring down at Max’s apologetic smile. “I’m really sorry, [name]. I should’ve listened to you.”

“Yeah, you should have!” you snap but without any mean intent. When Max flinched at your voice as if hurt, you toned it down. “Just…just don’t do it again, ok? Promise me!”

“I promise,” he grins cheekily. “I’m assured that I won’t die so I’m going to be fine!”

You roll your eyes, smiling tiredly. “Haven’t you ever had a cold?”

“Mmmmm, not really…?”

“Ok.” You lean in towards him and hastily press your lips against his forehead. “I’ll go and prepare for the battle.”

“You’re going to catch my cold~” he muses, craning his neck in an attempt to get a more forward kiss. But your glare is putting him in his place immediately. “Kay, I guess not..”

“I really hope that’s not going to happen, Max. Or so help me!”  


	12. worth it

“This party sucks…” he grumbled, feeling annoyed and letting it show—he was loud enough for you to hear over the sound of the music blasting into the festive room.

You glance over at him, at your lover with whom you came, slouching in the chair and pouting; obviously disinterested in what was going on around. _For some reason_. Something must’ve happened to him that ruined his mood, since he has been most excited for this wedding, but along the way, he lost his energy. Became this ball of hate and spite and no matter how many times you asked, he wouldn’t tell you. Max only glared at you, as if that would explain everything, expecting you to figure out what  _you_ did. You don’t remember doing something to upset him; you haven’t spent that much time around him anyway.

 _‘Wait…Maybe this is what it is about?’_ It made sense to you now, a little bit. But you didn’t want to think this was the reason—I mean, he promised you he’ll never get jealous again. However, his attitude told you otherwise that he hasn’t changed. So you let out a tired sigh (your feet were killing you for standing up too much) and gently grab his hand. He doesn’t push you away and immediately starts playing with your fingers, just the way he always does. “It’s a wedding, Max, they aren’t for everyone.”

“Whatever…” Max ruffles his hair a bit, feeling his head spinning. He probably drank too much to quench his jealousy.

Yes. Jealousy. He was jealous, no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that he wasn’t. That he has changed after he promised you to not make a scene again. But his resolve has weakened over the course of the day—he was tired, no doubt, and the alcohol didn’t help. Weddings were a pain in the ass, but he had no choice. It was your own brother that was marrying today and so you had to attend. He came too because he was friends with your brother, albeit the relationship could be a bit strained sometimes. Your brother was waaaay too overprotective, but that changed over the years you’ve been together. Still, he expected you to stay with him during the party since you couldn’t during the ceremony. But that didn’t seem to happen anytime soon…

He just didn’t realize how big your family was. You were asked about each second, an aunt or a distant cousin wanting to talk to you about whatever uninteresting thing they had to say about their life. You weren’t too keen on doing this the whole day, but you had no choice. Your polite trait of personality couldn’t tell them ‘no’, so you were stuck in that hell. Max was stuck in his own hell because he barely knew anyone here. So he could only sit down at his table and drink, while following you around the room.

 _Gosh, you were so beautiful…Somehow, you managed to attract the attention of everyone present at the party. There wasn’t_ anyone _, man or woman, who didn’t glance in your direction at least once. You were splendid in your attire, your clothes having been picked carefully weeks ago, your make-up on point and your hair styled in the way that he liked. You were gorgeous from head to toe—and that smile, fuck, it made his heart melt and breathing heavy. How much Max would like to flee with you back to your hotel room and take that outfit off, peeling it off your skin and making you shiver…_

He was daydreaming again, he realized; but he wasn’t bothered by it. He couldn’t help it because he was lacking the affection he so desperately sought sometimes. He wanted to spend more time with you but it seems that was impossible. He crossed his arms over his chest, sinking even more in the chair, uncaring of the disapproving glances he got from the other guests. They were probably expecting something more out of [Name]’s boyfriend, but he honestly didn’t give a shit at this point. He has been too good until now; no more Mister nice guy Max.

 _‘Maybe I should just go home…’_ He honestly thought about that a lot, a passive-aggressive way to show you his frustration. However, this wasn’t necessarily your fault, it was the circumstances that didn’t allow you two to be together. So he couldn’t just get up and leave—he was stuck in limbo.

So he took another gulp from his drink and watched you further; but what he was seeing in front of his eyes made him flare up with anger… 

* * *

“Your boyfriend seems bored,” a friend of yours tells you as you’re talking with her, all of a sudden. You turn your head a bit to look at Max and you see him contemplating life, it looked like. But you knew he was upset and jealous: he was pouting (cutely, you might add) and he obviously didn’t make any attempt to socialize. You tried telling your brother to keep him company for a while, but he obviously couldn’t stay long, being asked by other people for his presence. But what could you do…?

“More like jealous, hah,” another friend laughed, adding to the conversation.

‘If you’d only know…’ But you had no idea what to do. You couldn’t avoid talking to other guys and even if you did, their stares follow you everywhere, so there was no escaping that. He just has to put up with it and you make a mental note to reward him plenty for his effort and patience. ‘The party’s almost finished, anyway…’ You hoped you had the strength for a round of love-making, because you were more than sure that Max had plenty of energy remaining. ‘Well, it could be worse.’

Just as you had that thought, you heard a voice that gave you unpleasant chills down your spine. The person was calling your name and you  _had_ to turn around and greet him personally. Professionally, you might say, as you put on a very kind smile while you faced the man you avoided all night.  _Your ex._ You had no idea why he was here, but it seems he came for you. He was, after all, friends with the spouse of your brother. A very dear one, she added, so you brother had no choice but allow him despite wanting to knock his teeth out for what he has done. You can’t make a scene because your brother asked you not to (you’ve been mad as hell when he told you he was coming), so you just have to put up with him.

‘You owe me one, brother…’

“Hey! Having fun?” you asked with a forced laugh, trying not to let your hate show. The ex smirked, eyeing you up and down in a lecherous manner that made you feel disgusted. You glanced at Max, but he didn’t seem to notice. So he couldn’t help you…You sighed internally.

“I will have fun—“ the man bowed slightly, extending his hand towards you gallantly. You were taken aback by his action, knowing he was making himself look pleasing just to win your favour. But you could never forgive him. “—if you allow me a dance.”

You wanted to punch him. “Um, I’m sorry, but I can’t, my legs are killing me—“

“It won’t take long.” He’s smiling in a way that twisted your heart. ‘Fuck you.’

“My boyfriend promised me a dance so I’m saving my energy for him—“

But he knew how things were standing, so he countered “I think I’ve heard him say he won’t dance tonight.” He made a confused sort of face, playing. “And you haven’t danced at all. I would be glad to be your partner for a little while.” He grabs your hand before you can answer, seeing your hesitation written on your face. He drags you towards the middle of the room, where a few couples were dancing to a slow song. You couldn’t get away and you glanced at Max for help: but he still wasn’t looking. So you had no choice—even if you wanted to kick your ex in the nuts for doing this to you. You felt disgusted by him as he trapped you with his arm around your waist, pulling you close. He obviously wished to kiss you at some point, but you made sure to look away from him, as far as possible.

“What’s with that face, darling?” he laughed at some point, not disturbed by the obvious displease you didn’t bother hiding anymore. He knew you hated him and you had no reason to not show it.

“I’m just waiting for this to end,” you’re ruthless in your answer but he just chuckles.

“Aww, you still hate me?” You just glare at him as an answer, keeping your mouth shut tight. “I apologize for what I did, but lately…” ‘No.’ “…I’ve been thinking about you lately and…” ‘Don’t. Don’t look at him—‘ “…why did we break up again?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, feeling rage welling up inside of you. ‘What is this idiot talking about?! As if he doesn’t know!’ You wanted to yell and punch him, but you could just open your mouth to protest “I—“ you lifted your head to meet his eyes—a mistake, you knew—but you couldn’t just keep quiet about it.

But in the next second, he wasn’t there; he wasn’t touching you anymore. He flew—or rather, just disappeared into thin air, getting replaced by Max, your lover. You lived a bit under the impression that maybe you’ve dreamed dancing with your ex and it has been Max all along. But then you blink and hear the screaming. A painful cry and you glance at the ground, at your feet, where your ex was holding his face and rolling on the floor. He coughed up some blood and in that dim light— _was that a tooth?_  Your eyes widened in confusion and shock, then piece things together as you look back at Max. The long haired boy was panting in anger, obviously wanting more violence—he wouldn’t be satisfied until your ex was dead and gone. But you latch onto his suit with one hand and he looks at you with boiling jealousy. You smiled a little, grateful; you hoped he’d see that in your eyes. And Max’s anger subsided, pleased that he did good.

Until reality sank in.

“MAX!!!” you yelled, not as angered as it sounded. In fact, you wanted to laugh and kiss Max cause he saved you, but it was inappropriate. People were already jumping to help your ex.

“What?” he answered nonchalantly.

“You punched him!”

“…Yeah, so?”

He had a point…“…you…punched…”

“Do you care?” Max raised an eyebrow.

“No, not really,” you realized with clarity.

He suddenly looked panicked and grabbed your hand firmly and yelling “Then, fuck it, let’s run!!”

“Woah!” you exclaimed and folded your dress, throwing away your shoes to run better. “Shit!” you looked behind you and there were people that seemed to want to strangle Max.

You had to escape, after all, from an angry mob.

_But it was all worth it._


End file.
